The Tree and the Wolves
This is the song of the tree and the wolves.
The land is distant and grey.
Two solitary wolves approach,
snarl, bite, slip away from the supposed quiet.
The trunk stretches tall.
The branches leak pride and breathe as
ghosts of shadows echo on the edges of the eyes.
The wolves wander around the tree.
Each one misses the other, biting with the same teeth,
but never seeing his rival.
One wolf stands on the north side. Fierce and unyielding.
One wolf stands on the south side. Strong and unbending.
Brothers, yes, but unknowingly competing for the same tree.
Unintentionally betraying each other.
Each thinking the tree is theirs, and theirs alone.
The tree is a silvery thick oak.
The wolves silently slink around her.
Gray wolf south.
Brown wolf north.
Stars gleam, but none so much as the tree’s arms.
Everything else fades.
Just the ignorant wolves remain,
standing guard at either side.
And the tree, who has seen into both of their hearts,
She knows she can never drop her leaves and reveal
the wolves to each other.
Damp, deceit, darkness.
The wolves prowl.
The tree stays still.
And the dance goes on.
– Saratoga Schaefer, written in 2013