Head poked barely above the grass:
if you weren't looking, you'd go right past,

because her coloring blended in with the weeds,
she was a hard one to spot, indeed.

Found at a curve alongside of a road,
just a short distance from my parents' abode.

As she edged ever closer to me,
I could make out quite definitely

that her eyes were of the brightest yellow,
and she had a spirit that was most mellow.

A pup born of the wolf kind;
to me, she was a wondrous find.

She was six months of age, I'd approximate;
discovered along with a litter mate.

She'd climb into feed buckets for her share,
though she was the more reclusive of the pair.

She would, however, talk to you,
and proceed to tell a thing, or two.

Sadly, she's left the land of the living.
It was on the day after Thanksgiving.

That year, t'was the twenty-sixth of November.
This date, I shall long remember.

I do have in this, one consolation,
but without an ounce of elation;

for just as to me, she so came:
Wind is now as free as her name.