Wolves' Call

WOLVES' CALL


Calling under the vivid moon,

A bloodless white against the tenebrous sky,

That haunting, primal melody.

As the black-tinged clouds streaked across the heavens,

The trees rose malignantly, their twisted, crippled limbs

Clawed at the frigid stars.

The ground in shadow, frosted with moonlight,

Glittered bitterly.

On velvet paws, the stealthy messengers raised their voices in chorus.

The ethereal, woeful sound echoed through the land.

Again, the radiant enunciation resounded.

For a brief moment, the world stilled in wonder,

Winds suddenly tore across the forested hills, and ripped at the underbrush.

The enigmatic vessels stood like amber-eyed sentinels,

They did not stir, but observed

As the storm raged overhead with god-induced ferocity.

Lightning blazed, and thunder loosed several deep rumbles.

But, long after the fickle night hushed with temporary calm,

The wolves stalked through the dark forest with an elegant furtiveness.

Fidelity, devotion, and graceful concealment, each unmatched by any other.

They choraled once more, a brilliant, phantasmal cry, falling in overlapping

Harmonies, finally settling

In every listening creatures’ soul.



Oh. Hello. Umm... I could really use constructive critcism and feedback. There are places in this poem where I know I pushed exaggeration to the limit, and I really am working on it.

Thank you so much for reading,
TRS