luna's song

At twilight they venture out unto the world,
As shadows fleeting across a frozen wasteland,
They flee from the sun to meet the moon,
Calloused pads and harden claws,
They bite deep into the icy snow,
Thick, gray and white pelts,
Shine dully under a cloud covered sky,
Thick chords of raw, powerful sinew
Ripple under their protective coat.
They race across the barren glacier,
The whipping winds seeking to rip through them to no avail,
Aurora Borealis, translucent against the darkening sky,
Presents the silent music for the song that is to come,
As Belle Luna ascends the horizon
She speaks the tale of an ancient hunt,
They race towards their Lady Luna,
Basking in her silvery radiance,
They sing, the ancient song given to them by Luna herself,
Rips from their throats.
Velvet voices flow to their ears,
Tells of wonderful long lost hunts,
Of juicy, tender, and plentiful prey,
If ever heard by the unrefined ears of humans,
The song shall turn to one of sorrow,
Told with harsh cry and painful howl,
To remind them of the hunting grounds they took from them,
A song not told of bountiful hunts,
But of the struggles on that desolate plain.
Then all song ends, whether of joyful hunts, or streaked with pain,
All song ends when the Lady Luna lays her head to rest,
They take their fill of warm, tender prey,
Then bed down to await the sun.
As they rest they pray to their Lady,
To give them a chance to hunt at next moon rise,
For food is scarce in their frozen home,
Not always enough to keep huger at bay,
But always, there is an equal portion for all.
They sleep in the comfort of the pack,
Along side their brothers and sisters,
They are ancient beasts, they are,
WOLVES