In the Name of Nature

Black wolf waits in his domain
with glittering crystal trees
pristine, diamond-crusted snow.

He does not have a name;
he is grateful for it.

A dog moans, an old whale turning
in the grey-blue deep, his wail
muffled in moisture-laden clouds.

He has a name; he cannot bear
to hear it.

There, in twilight mist, dancing
in on dew-soaked shoes, silver cloak,
in blankets unifies the beasts

and calls them by their nature.