Today you told me that the wolves came back

To Rome, but didn’t mention if a bird

Flew over left to right, on the right track,

For fragile hope, speak no ill-omened word.

Wolves will restore the balance to a place

Cull deer, grow trees, bend rivers, and their sway

Shapes of the land itself a wilder space.

Of course, it’s true there’s other news today.

Ill omens reaching out their bloody spoor

Hurricane, earthquake, famine, hatred, lack,

Bad water, cholera, destruction, war.

Against the autumn sky the birds whirl black

Which augurs well, so I shall hope once more:

Today you told me that the wolves came back.