Spirit Wolves

Spirit Wolves


While falling into the arms of the sky
You can hear the rivers at sundown
running free and long
you can hear wolves whispering at dawn
calling to the spirits of the moon

Songs of the wolves beckoning the midnight sun
gathering like a maze of shadows
strange as it seems, they seize the night
with howls that echo unknown mysteries

Driven by lost trails after dark
in an artificial reality
they are spirit hunters, keepers of memories
driven by the depths of darkness
they are no stranger to the woods

Their eyes peer at the falling red stars
they begin to drink from the black waters
the willows dance from the mist falling
A spell of mental images of warriors in waiting

On the edge forever; following the depths of their beliefs
just time travelers with a free spirit
living in the night dreamers realm


© 2000 by shyloh


This poem is dedicated to my best friend Author
Earl P. Murray, He loved writing about Native Americans and wolves.
After his passing I took the titles to everyone of his novels and this is how this poem
came about.

I won two awards for this and Earl's wife has one..


I love you Earl & Elizabeth