Mama Wolf
In vicious packs these creatures roam From their mouths secrete forth spit and foam.
Their black eyes glitter as they hunt thier prey.
After a night of thier killing sport they seek a warm place to lay.
When one of their many die Their spiritual wings unfold and fly.
To the mysterious full moon they howl.
Which injures but illuminates they're nightly prowl.
Only from the essence of nature do these wolves ever partake.
Which leads to question the human's hate.
Who abuse all worldly things and waste everything they take.
