Blood-Story In The Snow

The animals dreamed of us
Near the mouth of the den at the end of acres
Fur-scattered rug of snow
Doored the entrance to the blood-stinking lair
The kill had been plain.
Snowshoes stopped in tandem, our breath hot on the air
They were still there, spirit-sneaking near us with hot-kill energy, Sparking crystal-lights of fire in the fine, blood-misted snow.

We read the story, slowly tracking the deep-dots of
Prints struck hard against the ice
Deep-melted in the dark-rooted soil
Marks of shiny-struggle and the deer’s last day.
She slowly going down like the final sun
Loathe to give up her last beating-breath
Heart in her mouth, eyes shedding fear
Other eyes lacing hers from across the creek
Glitter of life within, tenderly walking towards her closing cry.

The pack had taken her in bits and in pieces, yipping and yowling
A bone-chilling-kill in the soft-falling night, dusk-settling
Daring to pierce her flesh, rip her sweet, mottled hide
Red-blood drip-spotting first the blaring whiteness of snow
Misting the glitter-prints of coyote paw, desperate heaving-hoofs
Patterning the killing-field with her last effort to cling
Where life had given dawn, and frolic, and saucy dance.
The going down was long… her struggle brave and valiant
She did not give her life freely, but death was her gift in the end.

The slayers slumber with shiny, blood-glistened tongues
Hot blood-breath against the darkness, now deep and black
The pack lies silent in succulence, bellies full
Beside the carcass left alone in bone-brittle defiance
She, passed on to a better dream, whole and full and finished.
Killers seamed in survival-flesh beneath blood-smeared fur
Living inside the wolf-wisdom of ancestors lurking in the past
Cunning and clever, each pup full-tummied against fertile female
Alpha-dreams dance in the hot-bellied den, dawn seeking another day.
The animals dream of us.