Wolf

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Wolf

• By Billy Collins

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A wolf is reading a book of fairy tales.The moon
hangs over the forest, a lamp.He is not
assuming a human position,say, cross-legged
against a tree,as he would in a cartoon.This
is a real wolf, standing on all fours,his rich
fur bristling in the night air,his head bent
over the book open on the ground.
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He does not sit down for the wordswould be too
far away to be legible,and it is with difficulty
that he turnseach page with his nose and
forepaws. When he finishes the last talehe lies
down in pine needles.He thinks about what he has
read,the stories passing over his mindlike the
clouds crossing the moon. A zigzag of wind shakes
down hazelnuts.The eyes of owls yellow in the
branches.