His amber eyes, nervously darting from side to side,
revealed his suspicion that something unusual was
happening. The dark night was sinking into inky
blackness as soft light slowly surrendered to the
eclipsing moon.
Gray, bristled hair twitched along the old wolf’s
spine. He crouched low in the meadow grass,
waiting for a twig to snap. It was then that
his sensitive eyes detected a faint veil of red,
velvet softness, falling over the trees, running
down the mountain, reflecting on the placid
lake.
As if lifted by a gentle hand, his elegant head
pointed toward the starry backdrop for a
red circle hanging in their midst. A gate in
his mind opened and a memory escaped,
stories told in the den about the mysterious
Wolf Moon.
His lower jaw dropped and wih one deep
breath, the old wolf released a sound that
echoed across the valley, touched the
watching mountain, and rose to greet
brother Sky Wolf.
Relaxed now, he lowered his head to rest
on outstretched front legs. Golden
eyes closed, he slept in the presence
of the ancestor.
Sonoran Desert Writer 