Poem – Wolves at the Door | Rhonda Laurel, Romance Author

As I peered out of my cabin window

In the middle of no where

On a brisk Sunday morning,

I missed, by mere seconds

An uninvited guest.

The evidence of his existence

Were the tracks leading to a nearby wooded clearing.

And remnants of his breath hung in the air like a Christmas ornament.

The tracks were closer than last time he visited.

I stepped outside wearily knowing he was watching.

Hoping he would lose interest in the foreseeable future.

I sipped my tea.

Enjoying the unsettling stillness of the country side that

contradicted the emotional roller coaster within me.

I remembered that this place had always been my sanctuary and always would be.

I turned to the door to seek refuge from the sudden biting wind and caught a glimpse of his calling card.

Fresh claw marks, carved like fine intricate detailing on a piece of mahogany furniture, on my door.

I looked back in acknowledgment.

Knowing the next time I might not be so lucky.

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