My wolf soul is born of an ancient mother
She is not the one who gave me human form
Aware
She howls her knowing
Deep in primeval forest
My sisters are scattered
She comes to us in dreams and solitary moments
Helps pick through the bones for the truth in our souls
Sunset pierces gossamer clouds
Blood warm on icy peaks
Over moon silvered driftwood the old grey one comes to the ancient lagoon,
licks cooling sand from my paws.

Copyright 1999, Annieruth