I stand on a cliff high above the river,
bathed in the light of a harvest moon,
A misty fog rises off the water,
cool fall air fills my lungs.
Down below a solitary soul waits,
its mournful call swirls and rises with the mist,
Its plea pierces my heart,
as he calls for his mate.
Nights are getting colder,
winter is coming,
instinctively he knows,
with haste they must leave.
Dangerously he stays awhile longer,
survival lost over desire,
finally she appears out of the woods,
a scene to remember.
As this magnificent wolf pair turn to leave,
in the light of the harvest moon,
I realize their journey will be long,
From my now silent place,
high on the cliff,
I promise to be here on the day,
spring welcomes their family home.