Wizard
A coyote running for the brush
Behind a screen of sun-lit leaves
Ginger-ivory, blur and flash,
Through the trees it bores and weaves
Wizard go and find your den
Dogs have traced the scent of you,
Enigma of the race of men
The slavish kill the feral few
If they catch the mark of scent
On any sapling on the hill,
Then on your trail the dogs go bent,
They will find your pups and kill
But if a single dog should chase
Your shadow and go in too far,
If it find your dug-out place
It will have found the beast you are
When the deer have smelled your mark
They leave the forest if they can,
Although they have no fear at all
Of slow and sentimental man
Soon I think there may be more
Than dogs and hikers on the track,
Hunters on the trail of war,
Famine and the rifle’s crack
Pavel
May 5, 2011
