There are times the wolves are silent,
And only the moon howls;
The creeping night the only thing
That in the darkness, growls.

The trees whisper 'twixt themselves
As the wind softly moans,
And houses shift and grumble,
Settling on their bones.

Shadows dart about and play
As we lull ourselves to sleep,
Praying for the feeble light
To keep us within reach.