I wanted something dark and even creepy for this January mood poem, so we have a variety of spooky comings and goings. There's a nod to the Wolf Man, Count Magnus, and Dracula (the 1930s version).
Wolf Moon
The dark cold sky, the bright wolf moon
Howling begins, children of the night
The wolf-bane blooms so very soon
And the time of the wolf is in sight
Shapes move in trees on a lonely hill
Screams, and mocking laughter heard
A dark pilgrimage casts shadows still
The beating of wings, the death bird
In the castle, the awakening starts
Deep in the crypt, where coffins lay
Movement in coffins, beating hearts
As those undead come out to play
The Grey King rises on mountain peak
His breath is ice, and he will speak
The dark cold sky, the bright wolf moon
Howling begins, children of the night
The wolf-bane blooms so very soon
And the time of the wolf is in sight
Shapes move in trees on a lonely hill
Screams, and mocking laughter heard
A dark pilgrimage casts shadows still
The beating of wings, the death bird
In the castle, the awakening starts
Deep in the crypt, where coffins lay
Movement in coffins, beating hearts
As those undead come out to play
The Grey King rises on mountain peak
His breath is ice, and he will speak
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