Lupine Dreams

Of Lupine dreams,
the moon,
the autumn wind, the skeletal trees.

The rolling clouds,
the forest wilds,
the distant hills for miles and miles.

The scent of prey,
under starlit sky,
living as though we cannot die.

And with the pack,
between bough and fern,
no trodden path to twist and turn.

Golden eyes
and panting breath
the light of morning brings my death.

Is it all, as it now seems?
When I awake
from Lupine dreams.