Wolves at the door

The wolves have come

Come howling from the moor

Howling scratch the bare wood door

I hear their paws in snow

Hear their whines and chatter

And tremble in the cold.

Alone, down to lamb bones

And boiling broth

Down to scraps they did not save for rope

Down to comfort sought

In the remorseless winter

Chorus of wolves.

They will come again tonight

Certain as sunrise

Again tomorrow.

Past christmas now

Past the season of feast and gifts

Past generosities.

What is to be made

Of lamb bones and old rope
Of empty pots
Of spotless knives and spoons?

The wolves have come to my door

In cold I will not tremble

Or worry over circled tracks

Worry for their whining

They are welcome back.

The wolves have come to my door

Tomorrow I trade fur.