The Return*

The wolf has returned.
His tracks in the snow
Circle my dwelling.
It’s the same one as before.
I can tell by peculiarities
In his gait.

The wolf is always silent.
Predatory.
He is stalking me.
Learning my rhythm
The pattern of my days.

I never see him.
But I know he sees me.
He blends with the wood line
Camouflaged against
Shadows and snows.

He is preparing his strike.
He knows the attack
Must be swift
Precise
Deadly.

But he cannot know
I am stalking him.
He cannot know
I am as deadly as he.
He cannot know
I may not be as swift
But I don’t have to be.
I just have to be exact
In the measure of distance
Elevation
And wind.

The wolf cannot know
He also wears a target.
The wolf cannot know
He is already dead.

*Poetry is wonderfully allegorical. A "wolf"
may be other than a wolf. We all are stalked
by a "wolf" of one kind or another. The only
commonality is that they all must go.