13 Ways of Looking at the Gray Wolf | Teen Ink

13 Ways of Looking at the Gray Wolf

February 18, 2011
By Fallen-Crescent BRONZE, Manalapan, New Jersey
Fallen-Crescent BRONZE, Manalapan, New Jersey
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Maybe it's not my weekend, but it's going to be my year." - All Time Low

The full moon blazes above the forest,
The night air is collided with the sounds of a howl of despair.
The Gray wolf throws his head back, eyes closed, ears pinned tight against his skull, as the song slides out of his throat.

The forest floor is covered in a fresh blanket of fluffy white snow.
A mother doe and her fawn dig their noses into the bitter cold, looking for food.
The Gray wolf patiently waits, crouched in the background, hidden in the winter paradise.

New green grass begins to emerge from the rapidly melting snow.
Flowers begin to bloom filling the air with the scent of spring time.
The Gray wolves dance with one another, baring teeth and menacing growls for their mates.

The spring breeze brushes over the meadow grasses, gracefully.
Little cubs pounce on the tiny mice and little insects they find.
The mother Gray wolf, protectively watches her young as they explore new life.

Lightning pierces the horizon; bringing light to the darkened starless sky.
Thunder shakes the Earth, sending a shudder beneath the gravel.
The Gray wolf, ears perked, eyes bright, and alert, gracefully dashes for shelter beneath the forest canopy.

Giddy giggles fill the air as a little girl runs, her Siberian husky puppy at her heels.
Tongue lolling, blue eyes beaming, a happy yippy bark emerges from within.
Beneath the innocent exterior the descending blood of the Gray wolf boils.

Birds caw as they ascend rapidly into the sky.
The gun shot of a rifle pierces the peaceful afternoon quiet.
The Gray wolf dashes, tail between his legs, deep into the forest for safety.

The scent of blood and fresh kill is taken with the wind.
Scavengers emerge, in hopes to take a share.
The Gray wolf bares his teeth, a fierce growl shaking from his chest, protecting his kill.

Humans enter the forest, bearing loud heavy machinery.
The once lush pine trees are stripped of their branches as they fall to the unforgiving ground.
The Gray wolf, scared and confused, leaves the place he once called home in hopes for another.

There’s been a disturbance in the heart of the pack.
The set order has been challenged by an unexpected Omega.
The Alpha Gray Wolf pins the Omega down, fangs dripping with saliva.

The night grows cold and the sky is nothing but a black abyss above.
The wind nips at your ears, numbing them.
The lone Gray wolf wonders, lost and a lone, an exile among his own kind.

A beautiful waterfall rushes downwards into the small pool of water.
Around the pool flower bushes clutter, butterflies and bees flying from one to the next.
The Gray wolf pushes through the shrubs, dipping his head slowly to the water, taking a long drink.

The sun begins to rise in the distance, morning has arrived.
The sky replaces its dark colors for a cascade of light pinks, yellows, and oranges.
The Gray wolf grows silent, bringing his head down, opening his eyes, his song is complete.

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