when the wild one howls
how free are the wild ones
who roam forest and far field
mountain and valley
who follow the river
together, paired, eternal
no thought of tomorrow
of the death and living ahead
they hunt to eat
when hungry bellies shout insistent
of the need of the body
they kill to provide and protect
without malice of the mind and spirit
they run through wilderness of grass
spring green at summers start
and tramp the high trails
amidst the cold of winter’s long shadow
the present is their secret
existence in the now
their devotion beyond doubt
their love laid bare for all to know
together they shelter from the downpour
and find cool in the shade of mighty boughs
lying together as one
the young conceived in love are born
they grow strong and playful
churlish in the inbetween ages
and then full adult they depart
to make a world their own
the wild ones smile
and cherish still but from afar
their work is done, a little sadness
but soon,a glimpse, a spark of freedom
for they shall run and play again
together in their silver days
they learn to rest in the comfort
of themselves
in ways unknown in the restlessness of youth
until the autumn draws near
the leaves dry brown and gold
discarded by the forest trees
in preparation for the long cold
then bones grown old and stiff
and a heart worn from the joy of living
grows tired and stops
and only one remains, one wild one
howling for the moon
20/09/2022
Copyright © 2022 by Eryll Oellermann
