Noses touch in ritual display,
then with heads skyward, muzzles apart
they have no need of words to convey
the music that is found in their hearts.
If one will only just listen closely one can...
hear their song.

The courtship over, they settle down,
then in a readied den pups are born.
These are tinted in blue, gray or brown:
crying out to their mother in voices forlorn.
In the soft lull of the she wolf's comfort one can...
hear their song.

A true family, there is no doubt:
showing great gentleness to their own;
the young are taught what their role's about,
ever nurtured until they are in fullness grown.
As they join in sweet harmony one can surely...
hear their song.

Taking refuge in the light of day;
sleeping in burrows beneath the ground.
There till the coming darkness they lay:
to emerge from the rocks or trees forming the mound.
As they raise their voices in greetings one can't but...
hear their song.

In open country or forest tall
when the thrill of the hunt is ensued,
and after loping miles their call
lets others know that the prey has been subdued.
This is a time when one simply cannot help but...
hear their song.

When relentlessly pursued by man
they're shot, poisoned or snared in steel traps:
their cries of woe heard across the land;
reverberating like the resounding of taps.
As their singing fades with the night one must strain to...
hear their song.

Badly portrayed in nursery rhymes,
as recalled in certain fairytales;
rather look back upon ancient times,
for Romulus and Remus is a better tale.
As one listens to its message one can only...
hear their song.

Though we're earthly rivals for the land,
their names with ours incorporated;
be one warrior or nobleman:
this for a creature both respected and hated.
If one will listen with an open heart one might...
hear their song.