Wolf

We see mountains grow from hills,
and trees grow tall.
We feel years go on,
only to grow old and fall.
Our howls echo,
through the tall trees.
They bounce off the mountains,
and are carried on the breeze.
The Native Americans respect us,
regard us as sacred and wise.
They see a piece of themselves,
when they gaze into our eyes.
This all may no longer be,
for our fight has begun.
We wish not to live,
in fear of hunters guns.
Unknown "Call of the Wild" Wild - 16 years, 8 months, 11 days ago