Whispers in the Wind

Last night the wolves called my name.
Not the name I now carry,
but the one I was known by,
a million winters ago.

How they knew it was me I am not sure,
for I knew it not myself,
but part of me knew,
and part of me answered,

“Come, my brothers, let us run together,
Let us weave the patches of moonlight
into a story, written on
the fresh fallen snow.

For the world in sunlight to know
that a band of brothers
passed this place in time.”

(excerpt from Whispers in the Wind)
by George Rodgers

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