The Wolf by L. E. Hillier 15/01/2011

the soft breeze gently rustles through the leaves
brushing pass the sleeping wolf stirring its hair
then flits on its way to who knows where
the wolf stirs and comes awake sniffing the air
its time to go hunting but first a drink
the wolf slinks through the undergrowth
barely stirring a blade as he passes
quick look around as he reaches the brook
listens and smells the gentle breeze satisfied that all's well
he drops his head and drinks his fill
then pads away testing the air
suddenly he stills one paw in the air
listening intently he then crouches and inches forward
a sudden dash and snap of jaws
he eats his kill then back to his den
to settle down snug and contented
for tomorrow's another day come what may