One is laced with frost
its mate besmirched in blaze;
my Janus-eyed mate, my dream-wolf,
wordlessly impaling my sleep.
Stare-asking —she mutely peers
delightfully, with deliberate intent
why my pay-check matters more
than our cubs; our wood-life-dreams.
I wake alone, snarl-mouthed,
tree-sap rushing in my veins, sensing
that today I have another chance
to take a road less traveled.