See and hear about her work, such as Wolf Dreaming
Caroline Bury

Mixed media.
Imagine this wolf, alone. Her last day and night spent dreaming, her sense of loss all consuming.

This is not the ending for here am I,
dreaming.
Tucked up tight in golden grasses.
Tail curled over nose,
eyes moving internally.
Asleep and spirit rising,
now soaring.
Spiralling eternally.

In forests damp and dewy,
mingled heavy leaf decay.
I miss you, yet, I scent you,
at the end of every day.

A memory of autumn leaves,
rustling as we lope,
through the trees,
a streak of grey,
fills me with such hope.

Our voices carry in the wind,
to join the morning throng.
Birds and beasts of every kind,
it’s here that I belong.
The Fey are dancing here,
with light on every leaf.
And in a great symphony
Join me in my grief.

Old granny pine, in her roots,
knows when Wolf is near.
A cobweb clinging to the bark
trembles not in fear.
And catches not a fly this time
but tiny strands of hair.
Leaves them for prosperity
To say that she was there.

In her wake,
a sharp birdcall, echoes,
piercing mirky mist.
A clack!

Ears sharp and angled,
senses bristle,
branches crack!

Her pack haunts through the veil,
with keen amber eyes.
Fresh scent, in trails before us,
as the raven flies.