CRY OF THE GRAY WOLF


The howling of the gray wolf wafts on the breeze,
In the full of the moon, he prays through the trees

To the spirits beyond, who know there is danger
Of extinction, to this one who is never a stranger

To mountain or valley, wilderness or park,
Man must conserve this solitary spark

Of life in the wild -- maybe in Yellowstone
He'll find needed refuge in a transplanted home.

by D. Edgar Murray