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Poem

They say when the moon rides high and bright,
And casts it's silver glow,
On fields and meadows, woods and streams,
And village streets below,

It's good advice to stay inside,
Not venture far from home;
For there are those of ill intent,
Who choose this time to roam;

But I find this a peaceful time,
A time that's filled with beauty,
When Nature shows a little bit,
Of the treasures in her booty.

The gentle creatures of the night,
Who hide themselves by day,
Come out to forage now for food,
And mayhap stop to play.

The owl, fox and weasel come,
A nighthawk gives it's call.
A deer, a hare, a little mouse,
All wait for night to fall;

And here I sit, I'm waiting too,
To go out on the prowl.
When the moon rides high and the stars shine bright,
It's my time to howl.

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