Mistaken Wolf

 A desolate of some sort
Wilderness to me
And my coat never warm enough
So many trees
Too tall to show their green to me
Too numerous to let me gain a path or compass mark
The roots of them I cannot get from under my feet
The dead moss but slippery still sees my every step at risk
I am tall and I’d fall hard
Who would know it in the dim
The dim

The dim harasses my eyes
Hamstrings my mind
So I refuse to see
Still I know
The wolf watches
Ambery eyes and charcoal black back there and sure-footed
The dim and the fog bother him none, confuse him not
Funny I fear though he will not bite me
Poison I am to him
Still he knows
I think I am alone

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