La Louve Et L'Autour - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
La Louve et L’Autour
‘Twas night in the forest, with hardly a sound,
when a she-wolf was traveling at speed.
She was racing ‘cross meadows and covered much ground
and her eyes were alert and her body in need.
Then she heard on the path, just a few feet away
unmistakable sounds of a rabbit.
Only briefly the words in her mind did replay:
“Now we mustn’t make this thing a habit”.
And dismissing those thoughts she lunged with precision
at the dinnertime morsel of food,
when a monsterous WHOOSH came and then a collision.
And the ev’ning had revised its mood.
An autour had descended at terrible speed,
with his hawk eyes locked in on the fur.
His intent was as usual: Deadly cut and then bleed
but he had not expected, nor seen her.
There they lay on the ground like two fallen heaps
and the she-wolf was keeping quite still.
And a crow who was passing thought “this is for keeps”,
so La Louve’s chance appeared to be nil.
And Monsieur L’Autour, pas sur un arbre perché
saw the dent that his beak had caused.
And the blood on her head also wasn’t okay,
so he fluffed up his chest feathers – paused.
Then he wiped off the blood and brushed back her hair
and worried and fretted and worried.
And he sat still and pondered and stayed right there,
And wondered whether she’d be buried.
Now, the eyes of the wolf quite suddenly open
And then look deep inside his mind.
L’Autour sits quite still and is quietly hoping
That the Gods and the spirits be kind.
As the scent of La Louve overtakes him quickly,
It comes from the core of her being,
She’s still loving his pupils, no longer feels sickly
And their eyes - understanding and seeing.
And a pact was created from instincts inside,
A spiritual, soul-mate collusion.
They for many a year hunted country-wide
But this story does lack a conclusion.
As the wisened old owl quite clearly recalls
From a century of much wisdom:
”they lived in the high country, near the Falls,
And sometimes – I saw it – she kissed him.”
But each had their own home,
One a lair, one a nest,
One would fly, one would roam.
They did what they did best.
“Now and then”, though the owl says
“they would travel together,
and on sunny and foul days
he would fluff up each feather”.
“She would stretch and stand proud
And off they would wander,
Disappear in a cloud
To the bluest blue yonder”.
Says the owl: “They were funny,
Just imagine the sight,
And the hawk called her honey,
Showed off like a kite! ”
And this tale of two soulmates
Is still told these days.
If you look close you’ll see them
Holding hands in the haze.
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