The moon peeks out as the wolf pack waits,
It's silvery beam shining.
Snouts lifted to the moon, the wolves sing of their fates,
The light of the silvery dime blinding.
Their voices raise high with their soulful melody,
Stars dotting the skies above.
Dancing with the stars in a sweet, healing remedy,
Their song sings of peace and love.
Pouring their hearts out to the understanding moon,
Their spirits raised up and lifted.
Howling out their rhythmic tune,
Realizing their peace with the earth has drifted.
Their voices will drop as the wind shifts and pulls,
And the souls of the wolves will mend.
For there's nothing more peaceful than the song of the wolves,
And their song of hope shall never end.
--by Elicia Liddle
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