what the animals do

by riverwilding

I’ve been thinking of you; what the animals do

frightens me. Even in the heat of the season,

when reason has abandoned me for some shade

by the lake, I feel eyes through the trees–all eyes

on me, waiting.

You told me you are a patient man,

like most wolves. There are no corners or heights

unknown to you, even in the dark.

Even in the light, every angle of your face recalls

something missing from me.