It is past the Witching hour and the streets are dark
On my nightly voyage to Arcadia, I must… embark
…even wolves, restless hunters, sleep sometimes.
And in their wild dreams transcend the canine
Leap over streams and run across dark primal woods
And in the full moonlight howl away night foul moods.
When wolves howl, humans recall what they’ve forgotten.
When wolves prowl, ravens recall why they’re verboten
And when the old stars come out to the sky to play
And the wolf snug in some cozy nook, dreams in gray
The souls of ravens shall fly the free night about
And keep away the wolf-catcher with a crow shout
And in the morn, when the sun refreshes with light
The wolf will pause, sniff the air, await a new night.