The Hour Of The Wolf

I wake-up, restless.
Wrapped tightly
In the night’s silence.

No sounds.
Only the clock’s slow
Tick, tick, tick
And the muted thuds
Of my heart beat.
I count each worry
As they race by me
Joining their tag team.

The hour of the Wolf
Has descended.
The world stops.
Unwelcome guests
Unceremoniously
Jockey each other
And crowd their way
Into my tired head.

Three dimensional,
They stand proud,
Crying for attention.
Silhouetted against
The low moon hanging
In the blue night sky.

I breathe slowly
In and out, in and out.
The air soothes me.
One soft, long breath,
After another.

The ruminations,
Gradually loosen their hold
And begin their slow trail
Back over the hills.
Their distant howls
Fading out and drifting
Into the night winds.

Closing my tired eyes,
I lean back into downy feathers,
Sinking into my pillow.

Resting in the stillness.
I hear the clock’s slow
Tick, tick, tick.
Alone with this familiar sound,
I wait patiently for dawn
And the light of a new day.