Wolves at the Door©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.