The wolf sits in wait, surrounded by sheep
Hidden in his jacket of wool, giving no peep.
He baas like the rest of them, giving cover
Holding back his howl, hiding his blubber.
He has been there for over a year
Learning their ways, dismantling fear.
Most would have struck by now,
Most would have eaten their chow.
He does not. He waits, patiently by shepherd.
Knowing one will stray from the white herd.
When that moment comes, he will lunge
Into white turned red madness he will plunge.
His friends ask him when he will go
“A little longer” he replies, “until the show.”
The longer he waits, hunger makes him sway.
His sleek coat becoming matted and gray.
Then one day it happens, a sheep strays
He looks to it and jumps towards his prey.
Teeth snarled, eyes beaded, legs tensed
He opens his slobbed jowls, howls commenced.
There is no howl, only a baa, unrecognizable.
His wolfness is gone, replaced by the undeniable.
He has become that which he was around,
A sheep descendant from wild hound.
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