Silence stands the dew to cream at edge of marsh and woods.
Moonlight floods the vacant dale where once just shadows stood.
Haunting shapes of silver mist distort beneath the full moon’s play,
granting fear in solace kept as through their fluid motion stays
the pearled spark of dew drops, the subtle light enrapt to hold
the early summer’s bidding night into the realm of whispers bold.
Upon the knoll a single shape in silhouette does rise,
gathers form to seek the moon, relenting night in mournful cries
of calls once lost in solitude, of beckoning home in wayward howls,
of only what a lonely wolf will share with moonlight’s owls.
Tis here my memory stills itself, tis here I wait to hear returns
of full moons song ‘neath summer’s skies, returning solace I so yearn.