I am as little as Sicily,
And the stone bear beside me
As big as Canada.
The carved rock throbs with power,
And the Inuit letters are a spell
From the time when
Animals still spoke to men.

Yet, do my smiling sons and their wives,
Do my grown grandchildren behind their cameras,
Squinting in the glare of snow,
Know that when I was a little girl,
In winter in my village near Siracusa,
I shivered at the howling of wolves
Under the full moon,
Wolves sweeping in packs
Down from the mountains,
Hunting sheep in the cold night?

February 21st, 2010