He jumped the fences of our Tribe’s heart from the start.
and there he stayed the years.
-A faithful chronicler of our happenings and unfolding-
His white body a moving shimmering Igloo.
in the northern light.
Yesterday, as the allotment for his kind came up, He died in his sleep, dreaming
of the Tundra.
Now his mate, keeping her head down , whimpers the hours in wake.
Maybe to-night, way up in the Taiga, His brother still there, will howl for a
while,
staring at the midnight Sun.-
They say they always know.
Today our clan is diminished by one.