The Wolf
By Veronika Waltner
Shadows move in the obscure veil
Ambient scampers of little feet
Eclipsed in doom, quiet, quick, discrete
Scent shrouded by a familiar trail
Unyielding claws squelched in mud
Flying into the air, ambush begun
Capable, muscled figures highlighted by midnight sun
Grappling for first blood
Galloping in a horde attempting to bail
Panting wildly to the beat
To surround the outlier, prepared to eat
The kill fights harder, knowing it's bound to fail
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