Death Of A Wolf Poem by Raymond Farrell

Following hard after hunters and hounds
I saw from a distance
How they brought down
The large one
The alpha male.

Circling him with snowmobiles on the lake
At times trying to run him over
Torturing him for what seemed a short eternity
One then shot him down
Another ran to where he lay
And put a final bullet
In his brain.

I came to where he lay
Fur glistening with sweat
Blood oozing from his mouth onto the snow
No larger than a shepherd dog
Not half as dangerous as his sordid killers
Cavorting with glee around his corpse
Unpardonably exuberant over what they'd done
And blind drunk on cheap wine
A pack of drunken half-wits
Each and every one.