A hound of the city howls
when a passing siren wails.
An ancient way stirs within him,
and cries to the streets, 'Alive
is the savage soul of me.
Forever alive, the fury."

A summons to blood, the cry
of the siren pounds the air
then fades. In the hound a restless
confusion prevails. Is he
of his day? He trots a street
now still, yet unsure a hound's will.