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Singing With Wolves At first a single drawn out vowel from the dark silent frost then another they blend into a wavering yodel I find a loneliness I never knew was there I reply-- howling into their night . . . . silence and at last they echo my call joined by still others our chorus floats upward into a glissando a pandaemonium of ululations breaks into a higher octave then glides back to the original pitch we celebrate our newfound melody below the white moon. |
Additional Notes:
I hope the lack of punctuation is not too disconcerting. I have written this poem both ways,
with and without the proper punctuation. The way I've presented it here, seems to me, in keeping
with a pristine northern night of wolfsongs.
This poem has been published in Lyrical Iowa, Contemporary review, Sabine, and in a book of my poems
titled "Longitudes."
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