Every night,
As the sky grows grim,
And the sun shies slim,
behind the rounded moon’s face,
I shiver, heart quickened apace,
At the withering wails of the sea wolves.
Every night,
I hide in bed until the sky turns red,
Until those howling ghosts,
That ride along the coast,
Melt back into the sea.
So, every night,
I hide, locked in and tucked under
Safe in my slumber;
but with only me,
As my company,
Every night of every year,
I solely, slowly, grow lonely.
As far as the eye can see,
Nobody but me and a tree;
Perhaps a wolf would be a friend to me?
How frightening could it be?
So tonight,
When the wolves awoke,
I awoke.
And leaving my warm hide,
I pittered past flood tide,
To see no howling phantoms as feared,
But beautiful creatures reared,
By the sea to sing with the moon.
So this morning,
As the sky turned red,
I’m not in bed,
And not alone and lonely,
Because in the night, a wolf sang to me.