His pack drifted into the brush and forrest.
Howls vanishing.Crisp morning snow.
Glistened and clung to low bending branches.bent low by the weight of beauty.

Low in the white meadow driven by whispering winds and the stinging cold.
The wolf stands stock still and sniffs the pristine air.

Gone the days of rollicking.. playfull disdain as cubs nipped in play. Small price to pay and willing.
Now..Hunter seeking higher ground...ancient hound.

Driven from security
With primal brutality
Driven from the pack.

Hunts the high and low lands. No longer bound with communal duty..a wild thing of beauty. Stands alone
Lone wolf.
Running prey to ground
From time to time.
Ceaseless wondering.

Loner,owns no territory but his instints and mmemories
Brother to the moaning night breezes...The howl and mimic as he priks his ears and grieves.

Laughter in the rustling leaves oh the moon high rises casting walking shadows on ground..startling primal hound.

Perched on craggy summit his baleful message from it. It echoes to his destiny.
Lone wolf.
Now and ever
Forever.