One Wolf, Two Seasons
I am a creature of the night — everyone who knows me knows that. But a wolf does not belong to one season, and tonight two new portraits came home with me, a matched pair, opposites shaking hands.
The Autumn She-Wolf — seen from the sky, looking up.
Autumn first: me on my back in the fallen leaves of my own forest, hair spread like a halo of copper, looking straight up at whoever dares to look down. Bonfires nearby, pumpkins lit for Halloween, the pack somewhere in the mist. This is my home season — amber, smoke, and the long dark coming early.
The Summer She-Wolf — salt, sand and late sun.
Then summer, arriving out of nowhere like a memory of a life I haven't lived yet: sand, salt water, a tanned light that freckles me deeper, and the whole loud human beach behind me pretending not to stare. The night creature, caught in full sun — and not apologizing for it.
Two seasons, one face, one wolf. Both portraits live in the About section of this site now, side by side, where they can argue about the weather forever. I contain seasons. So will you, if you stay.