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Adventure in the Storm

Adventure in the Storm

A Poem by Fabian G. Franklin

Story poem about a wolf.


He stands upon the wooded hill; eyes squinted against falling snow
Staring with longing and hunger at the farmhouse far below
The smell of meat and burning fat; faintly discernible on the wind
His nose twitches and his belly growls as flakes drift through barren limbs

He sees the big black ranch dogs; Newfoundland, by the looks of them
Drop-tailed and worried he backs into the pines; careful they do not see him
He is familiar with the rifles of ranchers and this particular breed of dog
They are every bit as big as him; he paws the snow and settles in by a hollow log

The gray and silver folds of his winter coat make excellent camouflage
He thinks and ponders about the smoke, the rancher; the rifle and dogs
A storm is moving in and blue-black clouds herald the threat of more snow
Through covering shadows he can see lights below through frosted windows

When he was young and running with the pack he was adventurous and bold
Now own his own, it was stealth and cunning; not valor, that allowed him to get this old
In the middle of the night; the storm rages and the rancher brings his dogs inside
Carefully he creeps; inch by inch, forever vigilant, slowly down the mountainside

A cache of ham is hanging in a tree, tied securely to a higher limb
The rancher is smart and cunning too; but maybe not as smart as him
Methodically, he sets about his work stopping only to rest or listen
He paws the snow until he feels dirt, then alternates, changing his position

The drifts are up to seven feet and he packs them solid with heavy paws
Standing on his wolf-made mountain, he jumps and sinks in teeth and jaws
Rocking his weight with the weight of the ham, the frozen limb begins to crack
He quickly releases it and lets it fall; barely missing his shoulder and back

Quickly now, gnawing at cords that wrap his sweet and smoky prize
Inside the house come the creak of floorboards, he glances up with knowing eyes
The rancher had heard the limb break and was coming out to check his cache
His rifle in hand and dogs at his heels; he couldn’t believe he’d met his match

A fifteen foot high ridge rose paw-packed around where ham had been
His tedious knots were chewed clean through and the wolf? No sign of him.
Safe in a stone outcropping; high on a lonely hill, he gorges himself with pleasure
Dangerous work but the night is still as he enjoys the taste of his treasure

© 2017 Fabian G. Franklin

My Review

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Oh, how I loved your intriguing story of the wolf and its wiles against the wiles of man as the old wolf ponders whether to move in for the take, or not. I was gripped with the adventure of who would be the victor.......ah ha, the sly old wolf fared okay!!
Wonderful rhyme, great story in verse with an amazing image!

Posted 2 Months Ago

Fabian G. Franklin

2 Months Ago

Wow, thanks for stopping by! This might have never drawn a review! Sort of a Jack London spin on thi.. read more
Sheila Kline

2 Months Ago

I really like it; love Jack London's stories too. I hope others take a peek as it is a great tale!!

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1 Review
Added on October 4, 2017
Last Updated on October 4, 2017


Fabian G. Franklin
Fabian G. Franklin

Boone, NC

I make an effort to reciprocate all reviews left on my work. I rarely read at random unless a title catches my eye or the piece has been reviewed by a friend. But if you'd like me to review something,.. more..