Wolf In the Mist

The darkness sleeping in the hills sifts soon with crawling mists, a scarf of scarlet horizon.... Framed a furrow of mystic candy, its manna sweet in the setting sun, to eyes soaking soulful, quiet sudden in the breath of winds ---- And the trees tease with holes in the veil of this hallowed place; ancient, begging some lonely being to notice its supple leaving Its hello shall be brief ---- like a falling star, Its goodbye unforgotten, like a good lover, I shall return again ---- like a gray wolf in pink-smoke (howling under an olden moon) I wait in silver shadows.... To spin another moment in the mist