The Wolf
When the serene village slumbers
And the last lullabies are sung.
When the grey mist arises
And night and day are one.
The wolf trots silently;
Hunting.
Lurking.
Searching.
Stalking.
He raises his neck to the bright full moon-
And sings his lonely song.
He hears the echoes; the call of the wild,
And is gone
(the fog covers its grey veil over the horizon
And stalks the villagers silently;
So cold.
So barren.
So empty.
So alone.
It spreads over the midnight cemetery
And whispers in the dawn.
It hears the wind, the leaves rustling,
And is gone)