As darkness descends upon them
they wander from their dens
loping toward distant mountains
from which there lives begin.
Like mystic wraiths they move
phantoms of the lesser light
movements fluid and smooth
effortlessly hiding from sight.
For all their ethereal grace
their desires are simple ones
they roam from place to place
In search of food and fun.
A roving band of renegades
gliding through the night
they deliver mournful serenades
when the moon is full and bright.
Sadly they've become quite rare
as man has managed to engulf
the land they should share
with the proud and noble wolf.
By Billy Noah
By Billy Noah
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