Wolf Rock, 2010

From the clouding gray of leafless endless branches

it bursts into view along the timber sprawled borders

of a hushed path where a rock wolf on granite haunches

was what was most guessed to prize the image hoarders,

a suddenly there dramatic cliff that yawns with height,

an immediate rise of quartzite from soft brown sponge

and green moss, the scattered snowlike sense of white

that catches the eye's corner and, almost deja vu, plunges

into self a sense of something to be scaled and divined.

There is no sense of the wolf in likeness to apprehend,

only the makeshift joy of hewn thrones under scrubby pines

and a crevice table spread with apples, cheese, and pita bread.

The faint sliver of a crescent moon over gray veins diurnal

is the howl of a wolf that stays a howl though mutely internal.