It is a foggy night,
a cool breeze rushing under foot,
wolves bay at the moon.
The hills seem alive
with shadows and mist rolling in.

Fog shrouds the pale moon
causing a yellow glow
to admit from its form.
Mist cascades over
fields, mountain tops, and hills.

The night cries out to the moon,
for its mystic light,
and to become engulfed in its luminosity.
Like two lover’s walking hand in hand,
the night and the moon dance together
every evening before the breaking of the dawn.

With the changing of the seasons,
the moon keeps in step;
as the night keeps up with each step.