The Wait

The moon shines above,
And below, the forest gleams.
The wind caresses branches,
A world of dreams.

Silence reigns, in the world of tears,
For lost to it are those that sing.
Stolen from those mighty boughs,
Only one remains, the king.

Furred head dips low in mourning,
Broken-hearted, alone and dying.
For a wolf alone is nothing,
Not even able to begin his crying.

His pack had protected him,
That fateful day when man came.
They the ones to show their heads
The murder of cattle, they took the blame.

The blood of their death is on his paws,
The scars of their passing in his heart.
A single tone, lifted in offering,
A farewell to the moon, as he departs.

The moon left alone, forest below,
Left empty, still and waiting.
For the wolves to return again,
The mourning air finally abating.