The beast awakens on the lazy summers eve,
Stirring first with groans of a broken sleep,
Stretching it's soft and stiff muscles like the young pup,
But regaining suddenly it's full and fearsome strength.

The stillness is broken first by its lonesome howl,
Igniting a gale, a tempest of forewarning,
Stay back! Fear it's hot and sickly breathing,
Please, heed it's resounding and urgent calls!

The beast, swollen with power and hunger, spots it's prey,
Tendrils of mist, tendrils of darkness amass about it's body,
It's first longing, distant calls, now wails of pure desire,
It's hot, it's ragged breathing now a torrent of writhing winds.

With a flash, it bares it's glimmering teeth,
With a crash, it releases a shattering roar,
Blood runs, freely as rivulets of pure water,
Droplets of accursed life absorbed by the waiting earth.

It satiates it's hunger, and so fades it's desperate wrath,
It's ferocious howls soften to satisfied grumbles,
And finally the sweet silence of the summers eve returns,
As the final traces of the beast are swept away into the dying winds.