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Mistress of Wolves

Beyond the town where sleeping mortals breathe,
Within the forest of whispering ancient trees,
Beside a lake of satin black waters,
Rests a silver haired Mistress –
One of night’s daughters.

Her wolf companion bays in homage to the moon,
The night wind carries Her bewitching tune.
It rises above the howling winds -
And touches the soul deep within.

Entwined with her wolves lonely cries,
Her beautiful face turned to night sky,
The Mistress of Wolves, bathed in moonlight –
Sends her bewitching song -
Into cold winter's night.

© Amanda Lancaster, 2006