Letters
Young wolf climbs the hill
Draws water, drinks deep his fill
Returns to the mill.

Wistful fox watches
Sings soft, each note he botches
His paws paint swatches.

Wry wolf Miller's son
Never gets to have his fun
Nightly moonlit run.

Silent forest prowl
Odd vulpine voyeur an owl
Startled by the howl.

Wretched wolf so rude
Touched himself in manners lewd
Words and whispers crude.

Torrid Tod teases
Wolf's to do as wolf pleases
Sees, never seizes.

Father dear once reigned
Noble fox by day is chained
So he paints unpained.

Wolf among the flock
Foxy fingers could unlock
Find their way to cock.

Caravan comes through
If wolf is there, wolf comes too
Fox could start anew.

Long and hard will hump
Buried deep in fox's rump
Wary of road bump.

Yet wolf never came
Just another summer flame
Younger hearts to claim.

-Charles Michael Averin