Bright moonlight fills
the rainy forest.
Trees’ leaves glisten with rain.
The shadow of a wolf
slices the white glow.
His paws softly touch the damp mud.
He has a place to go.

The moon flickers,
appears again
in a crack
between two treetops,
{the light shining like fire.}
The wolf opens his jaws,
throws his head back,

howls.

The sound echoes through the woods.

He ceases his noise.
His job is finished.

All around him
the forest awakens.
Owls’ wings beat.
Rats scurry, bats squeak,
foxes growl.

He runs back across the mud,
paced by the rhythm of his feet against the ground,
and watches the black shapes of animals travel from tree to tree.
He has nothing more to do.
The night has come alive.