The Rhythm of Perfection

In bold silver he flies
Like the waving roll of wind on grass
He floats across a land of blinding white
And in his speed a story of plight

Of colder seasons
Of empty stomachs
Raging fights for a dominating presence

In every inch of bone and sinew
A story of nature's relentless drive to continue

A coat of wirey strands
Come together to protect in the harshest of lands

Within him a relentless will
Impossible to hold still
Like the advancing tide
No obstacle capable of making it subside.

He bounds in chase
No exertion on his face
The trailing wind holds his pace
As nature's perfection shows its grace

For there is no match to this beast
A predator built to the rhythm of peace

I have always had an affinity to the way that nature drives those within its domain to become the most finely honed beings. It is with this perspective that I observed the wolf.