The Wolf Poem by Miroslava Odalovic
The Wolf
The Breath uprooted withers in the wind
Toiling within the wounds
See- it’s a classic curl, a spiral breath cloud
The wolf ‘neath is whipped
With wisps of wordless worlds
The wolf- a mountain mute memo, you-mime
A classic curl, a spiral breath cloud
The wolf- howls at the moon holes hidden in each hunt
The wolf – hears the horns and hails
An earth risen rose- to survive!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/18/2024 9:31:48 AM # 1.0.0.1119
