Mom

Mom’s coat is tattered, ragged and worn,
It’s been that way since her pups were born.
So many miles are upon her face,
dusk to dawn trying to stay in the race.

She doesn’t care about anything else,
as she raises those pups by herself.
Sunny days they come and they go,
but most days it’s blowing snow.

The hunt is on, it’s time to go,
doesn’t matter if its blowing snow.
She leaves the den underneath the log,
and follows her nose through the frozen fog.

Returns at last with a nice big prize,
the pups are waiting with glowing eyes.
They feast upon natures tender meal,
mom goes without, as the puppies squeal.

She rests her snout on weary paws,
the taste of rabbit still upon her jaws.
Tomorrow she’ll have to do it again,
it’s soon forgotten as her pup’s cuddle in.

She licks each and every one,
loving licks from a mother’s tongue.
For they are her future heirs,
six lives from inside her lair.

Soon they will grow strong and brave,
and carry that legacy to the grave.
They will protect the family with all their might,
for this pack was built under mom’s guiding light.