Where once the wolf was howling, sounds the howl of tires. Where once wild mustard, rank scent embitters air. Where once red-tail hawks soared watching for grass’s shiver, they watch atop poles for weaving pickups aimed for jacks and snakes. Then howl of tires sank like pebbles in city deep As tire owners scrubbed the air And mountains rose again as if howled for by the wolf. But abused beyond saving, a red-tail hawk confronts a gull for a french-fry at the city dump.