Beyond the Blind

Cliff rises, shear and sharply, up from earth,
O’er glacier lake so still and icy sheen,
whilst whistling winds, faint whisper of new birth,
Alive and teeming, wild, beyond tree-green.

There, Wolf’s demeanor, practiced, hiding girth,
With patience practiced (spy his piercing eyes),
Cajoling, mean, inspiring cringe (not mirth),
His presence poised to pounce; his prey’s demise.

Why heap such fear, it’s surely not his size,
But rather, it’s his cunning, quiet, still,
that lures, entraps; so if we’re called, be wise!
Close and latch the doors and window sills.

He’s awesome, not a blight, he and his kind,
Small miracles live large, beyond our blind.

 

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https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2018/03/17/wordle-343/

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