No, not that way, they giggled

moving like sun-shafts between branch and leaf 

winged, gossamer, horned, talon-toed 

taking my hand they tugged me 

not closer, but into, or across some barely perceptible 


to see the once purple

wolves, now standing green and stripped

as if they had only just emerged, fan-faced and dripping 

from a well-fed lake

I watched

wide-eyed, while

the weathered pack caught the sky with earthen hands

and looked back at me, vibrant

coats now silver-haired, like the summer

rattled by wind, their heavy heads gone to seed

and all the rich color in the world having fled

they bloomed

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  1. Gorgeous poem this week my friend. Tried to leave a comment but me and wordpress no like each other. Xoxo
    Liz Wiltzen, PCC, CPCC Coach, Writer, Artist Website Blog Podcast The Mandala Project Subscribe: Join me on adventure to track magic and mystery in everyday moments. PLEASE NOTE: This message, including any attachments, may include privileged and/or confidential information. If you are not the intended recipient, or if your name is not on the attached documents, please do not open them. Notify the sender by replying to this message and then delete it from your system. Thank you.

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