Wolf Moon

She was not Lycan, but an ancient and forgotten breed

a Woman but beyond that, a breed.

One who walks by the night in a with lonely hands,

A land of vision and echoes and dreams.

but even still she Stands,

Hovering in a cave because the winter bites her,

but yet Howling at the Moon because it haunts her

And there is so much quiet...

Just a brush of air, a rustling leaf at the cave,

not even a bug to remind her...

of Summer. And a new season.

New horizons, beginnings, Greener things.

And the cubs behind her,

growing bigger, older, wiser.

That is her life.

And it is only humans who bite her,

not her breed.

Never settles, and all of it despite her.

Her own self.

That stubbornness to hold dear and live

the things that nature provide her.