Wolf Moon ~   

 

Cold fog seeps

and crawls across

the path I creep.

Winds undulate naked branches,

stirring dead leaves to life

begging at second chances

Darkness shrouds my form

wrapped in a cursed cocoon

that is constantly reborn.

Full moon rises high

resplendent in my soul

A wicked herald courses the sky.

Skin rips, tendons elongate,

Blood drips, fangs germinate

as hair propagates as muscles sip

at the power the moon

spills and instills

into me.

A howl escapes…

full and exultant,

primal and free.

It is answered

by a brother, then a sister

fallen under the same spell

of the Wolf Moon.

It’s a call

To hunt.

and we are hungry.

Oh so hungry.

 

 

By Philip Wardlow 2015