for Richard
What lonely direction
goest thou my friend?
A gray ghost, you’ve
slipped silently through us
as though we're an arbor
forested with notions,
a scent of moss, ardor
of pine tops, star-shrouded
glimpse of you moonlit
bristling in timber
untamed as smoke
elusive in solitude
A plaintive howl
pricks your ears
and you sharpen
your wits about you
white teeth bared
as the drunk woodsman's
laughter rises
from a cabin
in your thoughts.
How many woods did
that dark figure stalk
you, gun in hand?
If only that barrel
would have kept
quiet it's muzzle
instead of telling
its last lie to you
lonesome and lost
triggered your truth
your link to this world
slave to your notions
the last one to feel
deft fingers which penned
your saving grace
2006
Phillip Michael Sawatzky
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/timber-wolf/
