Below is a refined version, still true to your voice, but with tightened lines, smoother flow, and a sharpened sense of myth and emotion — aiming to leave the reader with that ache of something wild, unresolved, and haunting

No time to
Freeze the moon.

I fear that distant, spectral dance:
The wolves, the wind,
The starless trance.
A clash of light,
A shattered quill—
The sky breaks open,
Cold and still.

I hear the call, a ghostly thread,
The echo of what once was said.
The wolf returns to stand and see
The hill where badgers once ran free.

The hare is still—its heart a drum,
A beat that tempts the dark to come.
And shadows gather at my feet—
October's chill, so sharp, so sweet.

You came again, as silence dressed—
A month that severs, never rests.
You left me once, too young to break,
Now steal the breath you chose to take.

Say nothing. Speak no truth to me.
I grieve the girl I could not be.
The wolf is gone, the path erased—
The moon no longer lights this place.

And yet, when frost bites winter air,
I see you still. You're always there.
But you can’t touch what’s now my own—
I free the deer. I walk alone.

No time—
Freeze the moon.
Let ice give way,
And listen soon.


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This version keeps your winter creatures, your mother’s haunting presence, and your own hard-won freedom — but casts it in a spell-like structure, something timeless and sacred.