They came to kill us
and eat the winter stores.
Smelling of beasts,
armed with spear,
ax and sword,
they howled
as the their torches
burned away the roofs
of our homes.
But, we had learned
from our brethren,
from those westerly neighbors
upon which the
beasts had last fed.
We steeled our guts,
pushed aside the dread,
and killed them with hammers,
hooks, rakes,
and all of the anger
loosed
by the innocent dead.
Sheepskin
lay at our feet
and we howled
after the feast.
In moonlight,
the wheat
still shines red,
and the back-trails
bear the prints
of wolven feet.
©️ 2019.
