affection

Snarling like the dominant dog with its front paw

on the fallen quarry, I let my fierce fangs

hang unsheathed - as a thorny warning to offending

pretenders to my position as leader of the pack.

I lack conviction that I've picked a cause averredly

worthy of concern. I could learn instead to spread

my wings for things of a different kind - a quest

to heal the festering core of life's pain?

I remain unsure if I mingle with the right friends,

to lend me moral support on the tortuous track

to attack this kind of problem; but any shift

in the drift of conscience is well worth my while.

Of all the hills that might be here to climb,

to pick a sand dune is a waste of time.