A Wolf Poem
Howling high on a mountain top,
Sending shivers up my spine,
Stands a lonely sentinel
Calling to others of his kind.
The last of a vanishing breed.
His crime -- the need to eat.
His mate has a liter waiting,
For Dad to bring home some meat.
Ranchers say he's a threat
To the little ones in their herd.
But to hunt him to extinction
Is meaningless and absurd.
A way has to be found for all
God's creatures to coexist.
To bring harmony and justice
To Wolves, in the mist.
So, before you condemn him,
Or shoot him -- even worse
Remember the Wolf, like Indians
Inhabited this land first.
Comments
Post a Comment