Love In a Cold Climate

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I am dreaming of bears

under a full moon

in a land all white with winter.

I travelled there once

with my black wolf

for an arctic season.

We walked the river,

every afternoon.
Its wildness was the reason.

He sniffed the all-intriguing air,

gave a howl and  toothy grin.

When we went home for tea,

it was too soon.

I had to beg him to come in.

Next I visited the planet 

of human love

for a brief while.

Bumbling hero

in his own bad movie,

with witty words

he did beguile.

He quoted fragments of poems
under the moon.
(A clue:
he knew his lines too well!)

Mercifully,
although I fell,

the movie ended soon.

My wolf healed my foolish, 

and too-trusting heart,

looking at me with eyes that said,

"I could have told you,

had you asked,

right at the start."

I don't miss love in the cold and

calculated climate of earthly men.

I do miss the devoted heart

of my black wolf.

He taught me to run wild

along the shore.

He taught me how 

real love feels,

and so much
- so much! -
more.

for Carrie's Sunday Muse.