Ethereal Moments The Poetry of Donavon Scott Vinson
Wolves At Night
The night is cold and the wolves are on the prowl,
their eerie howls drift across the frosty land.
I shiver fearfully in my tent hoping that I am not
on their menu this starry night.
The firelight dims and the shadows creep in,
frightening me.
Quiet sniffing can be heard in the brush,
and soft growls drift to my ears.
Glowing yellow-green eyes suddenly peer in at me.
I lie motionless with fright at the terrible sight.
My heart jumps with terrible premonition,and
my soul leaps with horror as my life is savagely
ripped away by the wolves this starry night.
Donavon Scott Vinson