Wolf Moon

Early morning, end of march. Dawn upon the waning moon. Quiet steps on wooden stairs.
I sneak outside. A deep breath. Silence. An open sky. Wide. Vast. Soft blue and a hint of yellow. Bird song and the whispers of the water.
A riverbed, curved and winding, giving way unto the stream. A forest path. The scent of wood and morning dew. Dark, green grounds beneath my feet. Shoeless.
Shoelaces in each hand, boots dangling along. Skin to skin with the mosses. Naked. Intimate. Open. They kiss me good morning, I gift them my dance.

A sudden shift, A shiver down my spine. Pumping hearts – and not just mine.
3 wild wolves.
Eyes turn into windows, a gaze becomes a gate. Vision goes beyond. Thought does not happen and time is not present here. Breaths and beats in unison. One. This rhythm is remembrance.