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. 


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