The Lost Wolf

I see the wolf in the night, Howling to the moon, Looking for her mate, Searching the woods. In the distance there is movement , Thru the brush and she hears the whining. So she yells a loud piercing howl, That alerts the pack that she needs help. The noise in the woods is deafening, With the urgency that they need to hurry. The time slows as every second, Seems like a lifetime then the, Woods are silent and all that is heard, Is barely a little whisper of a howl. It is of a new born wolfling brought into, The world in the presence of the, Great moon and a proud and greatful, Pack in the woods. And immaculate birth granted, By the king of wolves. A miracle of the night will forever, Go down in Wolf history.