Wolves in the breeze

A wolf poem about a pack of European wolves i know

Wolves run in the meadow their paws fall silent.
The moon hangs high in the summer sky.
The breeze brings in the scent of a fresh kill and the howls of little pups.
Wolves run pups growl, the light breeze blows and the howl soars more and more.
Pups pounce crickets jump as the elders rest and watch.
The life of the wolves upon the breeze.