Now Is The Season

 

Wolf Moon By Mary Oliver

Now is the season

of hungry mice,

cold rabbits, 

lean owls

hunkering with their lamp-eyes

in the leafless lanes

in the needled dark;

now is the season 

when the kittle fox

comes to town

in the blue valley

of early morning;

now is the season

of iron rivers,

bloody crossings,

flaring winds,

birds frozen

in their tents of weeds,

their music spent

and blown like smoke

to the stone of the sky;

now is the season 

of the hunter Death;

with his belt of knives, 

his black snowshoes,

he means to cleanse

the earth of fat;

his gray shadows

are out and running -- under

the moon, the pines, 

down snow-filled trails they carry 

the red whips of their music,

their footfalls quick as hammers,

from cabin to cabin,

from bed to bed,

from dreamer to dreamer.

The photo is one I took yesterday morning not of a wolf, but a coyote as it loped through the back yard very near our deck. It obviously is not going hungry - looking very healthy and well fed. I saw it at a distance a few days ago hunting in the field on the other side of the pond. I hope everyone is keeping a close watch on their pets. I doubt this creature is surviving, thriving on mice and rabbits only.