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.
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Author Notes
My brother was with me that day, and we decided which ever one of the pups came to each of us, that one would be ours. His, he called Whisper.
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