Sweet Sylvia, Sweet
Sweet Sylvia in the morning
dew clinging to every inch of her soft plush fur.
Her eyes of amber,
calming and iridescent showing what appears to be...no fear.
Sweet Sylvia, her coat like that of pure snow
before the first touch of daylight reaches its tendrils down to thicken the softly set snow.
Sweet Sylvia`s gentle features playing with my emotions.
Tense as I am, not at all used to these beings being this close;
close so that her breath and mine entwine.
I can see her sinewy muscles always between the position of moving forward,
or to the side to better define the human that stands before her.
Sweet Sylvia`s entrusting eyes help me overcome the fear of her power;
power of the soul I never realized she had.
Sweet Sylvia, Sweet.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2010
About this poem:
Written 8-4-02, a lot of the wolf poems I write are about my personal struggles with pieces of myself, and this one had a lot to do with seeing beauty within myself, and trusting that it was real, and that I should accept it. On the other hand, it has a strong message about understanding the wolf which I think we are all still trying to do. Sylvia, is also a medicine woman up here, so the name seemed fitting.
Comments (2)
Thank you for drawing a picture that is amazing in it's clarity.