Moon Dance

A lonesome wind carrying the sound,
songs that only wolves can understand.
The gentle cool touch of moon's pale light,
tracing the shapes of the priestesses
in light and shadow play.
Only the two dancing, arms upraised.
Calling out in prayer, in triumph.
Rejoicing for their freedom,
asking for a good hunt.
Thanking for the gifts She gives.
Ears, sharp, hearing every sound.
Eyes able to pierce the shadows,
unfazed by the play of colors.
Noses built to scent any trail.
All better than mere human form.
Swiftness of foot, sharpness of fang.
Ready to hunt, to feed.
Taking only what they need.
Offering up their thanks with howls,
making others shiver that hear,
their moon dance.