Vicious Beast

The wolf that ate the sun passes as a story from tree to sapling to nut and back to tree again. In this way the wolf mythologizes into the yesterday specter that haunts the glades and meadows, the clearings under moonlight to sparkle rippled water and shine rocks. The trees shiver closer every time clouds cover the sun. Their leaves curl. They shelter. Branches hold branches and leaves slip softly against other leaves. Their animosity toward wolves is called protection and they level their justice in the violent wind, they harbour a deep seated resentment for the wolf that stole their sun, for each and every wolf that manifests the potential of their death. The trees shudder in their self-righteous wish to abolish the forest of wolves, they hide this truth deep in their roots and only speak of it underground where the wolves can’t listen.