A Howling Night It Is! Poem by Sandra Kavanagh Josefsson

A howling night it is.
The storm is brewing high.
The tall oak sways
from left to right.
The moon it gleams in the sky.

Small branches fall to the ground.
They are swept away by the rains water.
The birds fly to shelter under the rooftops.
They do not falter.

As the rain lashes against the window,
I hear a sound in the far distance.
A howling sound that has always fascinated me,
for it is proof of their existence.

I have never seen them about,
But on nights like this,
their spirit is alive and well,
and it brings me bliss.

So a howling night it is.
By candlelight I go to bed.
I listen to their majestic sound.
I listen to all that is said.

Verse: Sandra Kavanagh (c) .