Lupus Et Luna By Mike Williams

A lone wolf yowls lachrymose, At a lowly weeping full moon, A hyperborean chill blows, To quake the trees snow-clad festoon. Reverent icy waters stand still, Solid as old placid cold stone, And crystallize its surface frill, Webbing fractures as cracking bone. The moonlight shimmers lupine pelage, Luminous white, silver, and grey, Scintillating eyes peer a ledge, To skulk the skirted night away. A carmen matricale of night, In some strange darkened equipoise, Vapored vacuous of breath and bite, Winter bares its fanged alveolus. The ethereal moon looked on, With frigid distant nocturn eyes, When soon bedims her view by dawn, The wolf muffles in subdued cries. Snow blankets the barren land white, A place time seems to have forgot, Away with the sounds of the night, And the melancholy it brought.