There she stood delphic in the night’s mist,
Bewitching, with beauty not seen afore.
Hair black as the raven and thick as the forest;
Her emerald eyes glistening in the light of her mother.

For she is the daughter of moon and tide,
Forever purged of shackles and earthly ties.
Betrothed to the woods she wanders wild,
With the sounds of panting breath and ethereal cries.

Padding lightly now; through the night she’ll roam,
Extended claws gripping the rain drenched mud.
From her mouth secrets form in spit and foam,
Baring fangs – a wraith of white baying for blood.

Her cheeks flushed to the colour of damask,
Haunched on slender hinds for her nightly prowl;
Hunting down the sun, she would devour at each dusk.
For she was the wolf, and to the moon she’ll howl.