Grey

Grey

He shook the splatters free.
The small river just claimed his playful sisters.
The pack looked back
and journeyed on.

Too many borders crossed alone.

On higher, barren land he found his place.
Long had he shunned the grizzly male.
The old wounds were all enough.

Empty spaces wherever he went.
He did not meet them.
He hunted them. All of them.

Rustling in the undergrowth.
He freezes
by the flat stone that once was his partner's bed,
since long catching only the sickly scent of sodden moss.

He is part of the woods and the peaks.
It belongs to him.
To him

alone.