(20) The Final Verses Poem by J.B. LeBuert

Several years after the Black Death plague had arrived,
The Shewolves had not only survived, but they thrived.
Those who came to check on the village also died.
This ended the gold rush, it had been cast aside.

A murmuration of starlings foretold this swing.
The pack numbering forty three, now feared nothing.
They roamed and they killed, as Mother Nature had planned.
The humans abjured the search for gold, in this land.

This never-ending quest for riches was false hope.
Should man continue climbing this slippery slope?
The easy way to better your life is hard work.
Caring for all Nature is a job, not to shirk.

The wild wolves were following their God given traits.
Killing without pathos, is the road to Hell's Gates.
Compassion given the wolves, might have solved, one of
The problems that plagued, the greedy humans first love.

The last chapter of this sometimes sad Shewolf tale
Is not the bitter end, because we should not fail
To remember, don't be obstinate, but relent
When confronted with others' needs, and be content.

The Shewolf and her brood went on to live a life,
Much better than when the humans were causing strife.
Their territory, now large, they roamed with great ease.
It had to be better; they could do as they please.

The time will come again, when the humans return.
Hopefully by then, they will have much less to learn.
You can gain wealth and still not discard your morals.
Why not seek immense wealth, and also gain laurels.

The Shewolves and Hewolves couldn't ever forget,
That contact with the human race was a great threat.
They cherished their vast homeland, it's all that they knew;
With the peace that they felt, just to view morning dew.

Let's treasure our work while still giving compassion.
Accumulating wealth is not a new fashion.
Sometimes it may be accompanied with curses,
And that's enough said, in these, The Final Verses.