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| The screaming eagle sounded cries, Through the mist high above. The pealing echo thundered, A message to the dove. The startled eye cocked and bent, The dove leapt and fanned the air. The streamlined birded greyhound, Was joined by another pair. They disappeared splitting up, I saw no connection. Then the yelping caught my ear, The wolf had no protection. A mighty clubbed paw shook the wolf, Its bloodied whiskers dusted. As she landed headlong to the earth, Her matted hair was encrusted. The limping coon rushed toward bear, And bit him on the leg. As bear growled and rolled his head, A wolf shot through the hedge, But bear was ready faced this way, The coon had given warning. The wolf was caught in bears huge chest, I heard the crushing, moaning. The rustled leaves gave chase to the heels, As another took its place. And then two more appeared, That the bear had to face. I watched in anger as the stalk began, The wolves split and parried. The bear was far outnumbered, As the wolves wore down their quarry. A throated sound not mistaken, Carried to the fight. The pack stood silent, sniffing, But not a thing in sight. Their mistake was looking toward, From where the echo lived. Then the cougar struck, And no quarter did he give. I heard the crack that limped the wolf, The head was very awkward. The pack now was shaken, When the cougar snapped the cord. The odds were even, two on two, But the cowards that they were. Sought shelter far away from here, To lick wounds and clean the fur. The crippled coon stood trembling, First wolves and now the cat. But the yellow golden stalker, Turned and never did look back. One wounded broken attacker, Limped off to the trees. Some broken ribs and bruises, And a gash that ceased to bleed. One lone lifeless body, No longer did exist. The scythed spirit took the soul, And walked into the mist. The hobbled coon lumbered away, The scar gleamed up its leg. A crippled, but worthy creature, He would forage, but never beg. In my head a thought occurred, The bear had saved his life. Not so much for his size, But had overcome his strife. The tracks I pondered later, Then I saw the light. No toes in a footprint, A steel trap he had to fight. The Masked Writer <-.-> (C)2001 T Lovett |
| By The Waters Edge Part III I arrived just in time to hear my waking, screaming, chattering friends again. I could smell the crushed pine scent In the air from where my trek began. The whisper on the wind as leaves floated by on wings of flutter. A distant voice calling them, as they fell and stacked on one another. The silence of the mist as it rolled and Hung with no effort in the mountain air. An eagles wing caught the currents and drifted lazily on the clouds silver hair. I watched the aspen as they grew the zebra marked and rumpled skin. It brought to mind the canoes of our fathers skimming like the wind. The chattered red forest monkeys Joined their brown and gray brothers. A leap frog game began to unfold amongst the trees and one another. A gypsy moth unfolded the scary eyes of natures craft. So that others might not devour her, But what about the bats? Insects by the millions, Yet so few could be found. Nestled in the grass and brush, And some in the ground. A beavers tail struck the water, Sounding an alarm. He was the guardian, the sentry, Keeping all from harm. But it was only muskrat, chasing otter dog. Otter was only interested, In feeding on the frogs. The gurgled voice of a warbler, With music fit for kings. Resounded through the forest, Like it came from violin strings. And then the forest hushed its breath, The mouse�s whisper roared. Not one sound echoed back, No chattering anymore. I looked about through frightful stares, Searching for what mattered. And then the brush opened up, And the silence then was shattered. Fifty yards of broken timber, Housed the mangy lot. The leader was a vicious one. A snarl in her throat was caught. To whimper signals to her crew, Right and left they trotted. Then I saw the quarry, A raccoon they had bottled. He sensed the danger but too late, The wolves bolted after. But then the quieted hush again, The pack then moved faster. But not toward the helpless coon. But away from the danger. From my cover there he was, My friend filled with anger. Mr. bear had risen tall, As the wolves but one had gone. The leader scared but not afraid, Stood her ground all alone. The bear approached cautiously, And circled all around her head. They danced the steps of hatred, Each wanting the other dead. |
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