History poetry (The lesson I wrote it in)

A thousand trees,A stoic line,The silent wind,A rustling noise,The blackened crow,A barking caw,The silent onlookers,A rustling susurration,All else cloaked in blackest night,Yet still some light shines on,A glinting through the clouds,A shine though the trees,A call through the mist,A chorus off the sparkling dew,Yet all else deepest night.The wolf, in sauntering lope,Springs forward through the darkness,A bare smile, forty teeth,Forty white marks,Against a blooded spray,A grim spectacle,A grimmer light, in swaddling dark,As the young doe falls,This fraternity forth,These brooding brethren,The pack fall in now,Their prize is claimed,The day is won, but lost for others too,And in this glade now so serene,The trees and wind look on.