A white wolf has come down from the mountains and is approaching the garden. It is now frighteningly close. Somebody comes to the rescue. (found here)
A white wolf has come down from the mountains and approaches the perimeter of my garden. She sniffs around the white picket fence that forms its borders. The wolf saunters up to the open gate, turns to look at me through narrowed piercing brown eyes and turns back and enters. The garden is large, filled with flowers, herbs and vegetables of all kinds. I spend every morning in that garden examining each plant, tilling the soil and providing water when needed. It’s as if the wolf knows this is my sanctuary and she is entering my territory. She walks up the main pathway lined with white stones and stops at the towering eggplant leaves, bursting with beautiful violet globes of fruit. It is only then that I hear the faint cries coming from the garden. The wolf carefully lies down on her belly and scoots under the bush ever so carefully so as not to disturb anything. When she emerges, between her jaws she gingerly holds a snow white wolf cub, softly mewing for his mother. The wolf saunters back out of the garden, tosses me one last glance and takes off back into the mountains.
These are completely unedited and I’d love to read your comments.
What happens to the white wolf in your imagination?
Course Correction 