Feral Soul

A Word for the feral wanderers – I love it!

Shootin' the Breeze

Like a lost dog

Or barn cat

No longer tame

No longer fed

Hunting instead

Without a master

To provide




Trusting no one


Not even itself

As it tries

To be safe


Not only for food

But contentment,

For company

And for love

All the while


Something more —

An invitation

From the Master

On his porch

The Master calls,

Offering all

The feral soul

Longs to have

All is ready

At the place

Where the Master

Kindly waits

With all you need

There is a way

To find a home:

By coming

When the Master calls

For you to be his own

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