seven weeks since
their release.
alone in the dark,
in tangled trees.
bitter sweet scent
of summer sagebrush.
silence
in the blue range
tonight, and i wait
to heed an old
forgotten song.

hiked up here
to hear the howl.
mystic ancient
voices, too long
without them.
Arizona chaparral,
they know it well,
could smell it
from their cages.
in the blue range,
still waiting
for the wolves.

silence suddenly
broken.
i hear the howling,
i hear it well.
on my knees now,
feeling nothing
below me.
is this a dream?
the tricksters could
be playing tricks,
those dishonest
prairie hounds.

a pack of only
six of seven,
sounds like fifty,
sixty, maybe more.
serenade my soul,
stir an empty
place inside me.
unmortal memories,
the summons of my
brothers.
i call back to them,
"i have missed you
soOOOUUUOOOuuuooo!"

a quarter moon

a quarter moon
tonight,
and she is perfect
starlight.
fond fingers
embracing, tracing
the milky way,
galaxies at play.
ripping and stripping
nerve tingling and naked
wearing only
her hungry kisses.
call me
her wanton lover,
her craving stargazer.
Orion's arrow
lights the way.
the last of her pink
apparel, peeled,
caught on her
perfect heel.
heavenly bodies,
barefoot
from the neck down
and moon bathing.
my heart
like a red giant,
her eyes
perfectly bright
and to burst for.
there is love
in the universe tonight,
a quarter moon,
and perfect light.

A Word

I was a stranger,
In a distant town.
And I sat
In the lonely cafe
And watched her
Read Nietzsche.
The way her fingers
Ran down the page . . .
So soft and slow.

And I wished I was
A written word.
A word she touched
With her finger.
A boldfaced expression
She could grasp.
A syllable
On the tip of her tongue.

A word she would
Look up and down.
A dark and mysterious word,
Like the ones
She found so intriguing.
How I wished I
Was a word,
And not a stranger
From a distant town

Copyright © 2000 by Phillip Woodruff

About the Poet

Phillip Woodruff has lived most of his life in Colorado and spends a great deal of time in the Rocky Mountains. He is an avid hunter, fisherman, and backpacker, He loves nature, and most of his poetry reflects this. He also writes on love, life, and a variety of other interests. Currently, Phillip is working his way through school, and will soon transfer to CSU (Colorado State University) to receive a degree in wildlife biology.

E-Mail: wood71@netzero.net

Copyright © 2000-2001 by Denis M. Garrison.