Sonnet er Not

Where comes this bond we hold so dear?
The welds of the heart's forge makes;
From sparks to flame the mind's coke sears.
Burning passion, time like water slakes.
The bellow's breath blows braisers' breeze
To make the hearth's coals cherry red.
They bring the beloved to their knees.
And then to the wedding bed.
But gold bands smelted in Love's heat
Tempered mettle does impute:
Shaped iron shackles and chains greet.
Steeling vows now in refute.
   Judge not a marriage nor what's at its core.
   As you know not what happens behind closed doors.
    

Allegory


Palha had been watching for the man for some months. She had perceived an odor of fresh scar tissue in mid-September and sensed he had been severely wounded.
The man's timed visits to the spring for fresh water were predictable.  Like clock work he would appear and when he didn't she would come looking for him.  If the swaybacked old bay was tied out Palha knew the man was in his lodge.  He had seen her twice during the fall on the edge of the conifer forest the village bordered.  She showed no fear in acknowledging he had seen her.  Nature had provided her with the keen sense of knowing her prey's weakness.
It was January now. The Human Beings knew it as the Full Wolf Moon. The time when the pack would stalk the edges of the village looking for an opportunity to pick off a stray dog or perhaps a lame pony that may have broken away from its tether. For Pahla, and her litter from last season it was known simply as the period of cold and hunger.  The period after the fall hunting season for caribou, who had moved out of the wolf's territory.  A time of leanness in both body and spirit.
Winter had come early to the region.  Pahla was concerned she might lose her pack to the ravages of weather and famine. Her last litter - she was old now and would not come into heat again -  and while not her last winter it was close to the end for her. There would be no one to care for her in the end times she knew were coming. To perish from disease or starvation was an unpleasant thought and she tried to push the thought away.  She had chased off the beta male that had bred her about the time she had first seen the man return from his journey.  The man had left scraps of food for her; a sign he hoped would keep him in her thoughts.  Pahla was suspicious of the Human Beings.  She knew them only for their cruelty to one another. Their bickering, their wars, their steel traps and snares set to capture her kind.  Suspicious of his motives, Pahla waited until the man was in his lodge before she gathered up the food he had left.  It wasn't much as he was poor and she did not share with the pack. His generosity was unlike she had witnessed among Human Beings.  He did not speak which was unlike his kind.  He was deliberate in action and deed.
The man was alone.  There was no mate nor had there been for many seasons.  In his loneliness and despair he had tried to end his life.  Opening the veins in his arms from the wrists to just below the hollow of his elbow the blood had flowed like a spring torrent.  It just by chance that the man's sister had discovered his pale, limp near death form.  He had been stitched up by the women and eventually returned to his lodge. The ugly fresh scars a reminder of his lack of judgement.  Forever destined now to wear long sleeved shirts the man carried the memory of his time of despair and emptiness in his heart as well as on his arms.  Next time, should the mood strike him, he had promised himself  he would do a better job of it. 
Human Beings and wolves are social animals. Each species travel in groups. Sometimes playing, but always on the prowl for game to satisfy the blood lust. Wolves hunt for food.   Human beings hunt for sport.  Both are territorial.  A threat to one of their kind is a threat to the pack.  The man, by feeding Pahla , had disrupted the natural order.
The man's staring at Pahla, as she came to drink was not a concern to her.  On occasion she would stare back and he would look away in embarrassment.  He  could not keep his eyes off her.  Her loveliness was something he had not experienced in his life.  He'd seen many wolves, but not one such as her.  It was as if he was not staring at her form, but at something ethereal.  Something beyond words.  Something mystical.  He did not wish to possess her as other men had tried.  He wanted only to  nurture her; to join her in a journey with what time was left for them.  He would no longer be alone if she were beside him.  He was aware this dream could not come to pass as wolves and men are not meant to travel the same path.  Just the same, he grew more generous in the scraps of food he left for her. 
The time had come in the pack to break up.  There was not enough game in their territory for Pahla and her brood.  She would survive till spring, but the others needed to move on.  She chased the pack off  one by one. Biting at their heels, nipping at their flanks until they loped off to find lives of their own.  Alone now,  she was free to pursue her life and travel her path. 
The man stopped coming to the spring for water.  He continued to leave scraps for the she-wolf always in the same place, but never near the spring.  She accepted them grudgingly.  They would never approach one another if seen.  Pahla was free to roam her territory.  The man was urged to move away from the village. Pahla and the man would never see one another again.