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Karen O’Leary |
Lobo,
lone crooner,
serenades me
from Wolf Hill each night.
People heap blame on him
for lost chickens, dead kittens
plus, other predatory crimes.
I attest that his shadow stays with me
on that hill each shared night two miles away.
We met a year ago on Pine Cone Trail.
He moaned, guarding his mate as her blood
seeped from a hole in her right flank.
I sat, knowing his sorrow.
Inching forward in bits,
our eyes locked in trust.
He laid his head
on my lap,
one in
loss.
Dear Sunil,
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for publishing my poem in your wonderful journal. It is amazing that you bring together so many writers for an artisic experience. Wishing you ongoing success.
Blessings,
Karen