THE WOLVES OUTSIDE

By John Grey

My dogs get antsy

when the wolves howl.

That wild beast is broadcasting something

no doubt

but, when they try to reply,

it comes out as

just pathetic howls

or timid barking.

They’re not hungry

like a desperate creature

in desolate woods,

mid- January.

And nor as randy and lascivious

in the great Spring arousal.

Or eager to run with the pack

in the lush days of Summer.

My dogs are mellow and autumnal.

The distant wails

stir the ancestry within

but appreciation for the good life

curbs their ascendency.

They sit beside me

and I rub their soft fur,

massage them to sleep.

Such calm, attentive animals.

With eye and hand,

only their dreams elude me.

 

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in the Homestead Review, Poetry East and Columbia Review with work upcoming in Harpur Palate, the Hawaii Review and North Dakota Quarterly.