And the moon will glow full,
even through the clouds—
a hint, a haze dispersed,
solid, yet blurred to human sight.

Do I hear the wolf
that howled into the night
the frozen night
so long ago—
in anger, loneliness, hunger…
a call sent to heaven?

And my heart understands the cry.
We seek to survive
the cold, the dark of the season,
to dwell in the core of being.

To not run from the shadow inside,
to abide and not hide,
to face ourselves in the night,
to howl all that we can ignore,
and live with what arises from within.

Accept, and do not deny,
what is us.
The season of quiet unquiet
stirs a deep undercurrent—
Insistently discordant
churning for growth yet to come.

The howl is not just sound.
Gutteral call
from inner self to outer,
vibrating from silence to sound,
from closeted depths
where the dark resides
that we hide from ourselves.

Tested by winter isolation,
we dive deep,
and the space thins between inner and outer.
Agony escapes like steam
from long, quiet days
Trapped within.

The call of the wolf
is a joining to our own,
as fog of snow rises into warmer air,
blurring the landscape
into soft tones of gray.

Welcome the howl
Abide without resolution
Be content with what arises,
even if it is discontent.

Originally written: 2025 Wolf Moon time thoughts