The Return

I’m contemplating a project, that’s well, a bit different, but I’ll get into that after this.

Swirling, sweeping,
Down they fall,
The snow flakes leaping,
At winter’s call.

Deep in the frosted forest,
The wolf pack howled,
But at the snow’s caress,
The omega growled.

Food was scarce,
The nights were long,
While the pack feasted,
He sang his lonely song.

But change was coming,
Whispered the biting wind,
The usurper was cunning,
But he swore, he’d rise again.

Long ago, beneath the summer moon,
Strangers had come, seeking shelter,
For the black wolf, his mate swooned,
Lars had chosen to fight in his anger.

The black wolf was large and powerful,
Though Lars determined and vengeful,
Biting, tearing, kicking, thrashing,
The two foes struggled, fear slashing,
In the end, Lars was vanquished,
And now he lay alone, banished.

Many a time, he’d thought of leaving,
Yet still he stayed, close to his love,
The fire burned once more, his anger seething,
Determination; the time had come.

—–

See?! I told you I wasn’t in a creative rut (well, not anymore, anyways). So, what’s this project I spoke of? As I was writing this poem, the narrative was stretching out before me. I could see the epic struggle, the leader reuniting with his followers, the ultimate showdown, but it almost felt more natural to think of it as a short story. And what writer doesn’t always experiment, always try to develop new skills and create new tales?

So, “The Return” shall be both poem and short story, a union of the two formats. These verses shall serve as the opening lines, the exposition for a lightning fast tale that will read as quickly as a poem in either format. It’s ambitious, but it might just turn out to be something grand.

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