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Wolf's Poetry

Swift-soaring sigh of sky and sea,
Fly to me!
To me, alight on weightless wings
Too proud to bend thy slender form to kings.

All-seeing eyes behold thy flight
And delight in thee,
Thy wondrous wings too great for kings to see
Apart from woven weft of deftly crafted tapestry.

The breathless tales the bards would tell of thee
If they could see!
The tongues of lightless lyricists lie still
Aground until thou givest wings to sing thy will.
Erin Metcalf
© 2005

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