Who Do You Love?

No, when you ask me
"who do you love?".

I have not kissed the one
who will undress me.

At night, the wolves come down
to lay beside the fire,

black-fur silvered with light,
the smell of earth in their claws.

And I know the secrets
of their well-earned love-

the darkness, trees, catching
the flickering moon.

1 comment:

Crafty Green Poet said...

I love this, the wolves are perfect.

I love all your poems in fact, how do you manage to produce so many excellent poems?