A Lone Wolf

A lone wolf, I prowl at night, feeding on other’s fears, glorying in my self-absorption. Choose myself over others. Honor my primal needs. Drumming and stomping. Snarling and baring. My primal howl is wanting out. I can feel her, chomping ready. Not ready yet, I quiet her until the Last flicker of the bonfire goes out. The only light in the forest now is The half-moon. There is an immediate feeling of danger Surrounding the woods. The trees are fading. A star and the moon Are the only lights in a gray and black world. The moon is ripe. The atmosphere is silent. No cracks or pops from the fire, no orange from the depths of the grays. I throw back my head and let loose a howl that would curl your toes if you could hear it. A primal howl that comes from the depths of my soul, making my own hair stand on end. It is not enough. I let loose three more howls. Gratified as I recognize the howl of another lone wolf. Written August 6, 2018 Entered: Wolves and Moon Poetry Contest Sponsor: Julia Ward