I see the hum as a wolf, always present, always supportive, always ready to run.
She comes to me, she of rough shaggy coat.
Solid shoulders, paws anchored to the ground.
She sits and watches me with eyes like bonfires.
Her head tilts with my expressions and when
she hears my voice as songs from within.
Often she curls on the rug near the heat.
Kind, she curls ’round, warms my feet;
no place for a muse, but she likes it there.
When she’s feeling frisky, she rests her
chin on top of my head as we look in the mirror.
She gets the urge, is prepared to prowl;
scratching at the floor, she needs to go —
me with her. We walk outside, then pad
along old paths, between trees and tall grass;
no place too worn or too dense. We fly.
We slip along ice of winter mountain streams.
We tunnel and jump through snowdrifts.
We race each other til midnight. Snow crystal faeries*
and stars join us as Sky Lady Luna begins the show.
We tilt our heads up and howl.
We need to be heard.
By you, our pack.
This is a re-post from 2019, tweaked a bit.
*Thanks to Alexandra for the idea after I read her poem about the sun flurries.
I’m also including a pic I took of the moon the other night, just as it was rising at dusk, not knowing it was the Wolf Moon until afterwards.
Gina is hosting dVerse today. Gina says:
What is the poetic hum in your life? What hums in the background of your life that inspires you as you unconsciously listen while you work and live? Is the drone always there or do you have to cultivate the inspiration?
Some points to ponder in your poem:
- should there be a clear line between your occupation and your creative writing?
- do you have to make up your mind which one you want to be or can you do both things at once?
- are you inspired by your “occupation” to write creatively?
- can the frustration you feel in your “other work” (non-creative writing life) also be an inspiration to write?
- does your current occupation limit your creative writing?
- what is the drone that hums in your background that inspires your writing?