God Is a Wolf

God is a wolf.
God is wild.

With an amazing kiss he invites me to go with him
and we move together, but at a distance.

Sometimes he forgets that I am a man.
He romps roughly with me
and his breath scalds my nostrils
and he tears my tame dreams.

When I move indoors he growls
and his countenance is not friendly.

Mostly we run.

He is gentle.
He pants in my palm,
his bright pelt shining,
his eyes full of questions.
He is alert to the sounds of all living.

The rabbits tuck their slender ears
and crouch in their burrows when we pass.
Their furry hearts pound darkly.
They do not wish to frolic in the face of truth.

At noon he seeks a shadow
and I wait on his resting.

As we live and move
he runs toward the thicket,
hunting the true worldliness,
sniffing the scent of some fresh deed,
gulping the red meat of wonder,
making love to the shy mystery of the universe.

1974