The moon is full tonight.
Wolves dance playfully
in the white shadow of the evening.
They prance and pounce
and roll down the green feathered hills,
unconcerned with the passing minutes.
Their smaller friends,
the rabbits and squirrels, and raccoons,
live in meek anticipation,
waiting for a fate
that will hopefully not come
but still might...
Maybe in the shadow of a tree,
or beside the stream,
but always in that brief second
between existence and mortality.
That second, it seems,
is what some must fear, but
others, like the wolves,
continue to prance playfully
beneath the glittering moon.
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