Protector of Clan

An old wolf walks where the strange winds blow, His coat is grey as a borrowed sky. With a lump in his chest and no debt to owe To names that the river carried from his time, He carries the clan in a tale long told. The floating isles turn stone to grass, The winged ones circle on whirling air. He speaks of the pines where the old trails pass, And a pup with a coal-black coat learned to stare At the shape of a home whose tales are old. The sandstone ruins are weathered and vast, With carvings that match the marks on his hide. He stands in their shadow and holds to the past, The wanderers listen with ears open wide, And take what he offers: a story to hold. He was Protector when safety ran deep, Now he is keeper of shadows and names. His clan is a song that he cries in his sleep, A flicker of light in the land’s wild flames, An old wolf walking where time grows cold.