Note: This writing was pre-written to keep things active on my blog. I’m still recovering from my surgery. Thank you for being here while I rest.
Winter Werewolf Ritual
By the light of the moon, the rite begins…
1
In the hush of night ‘neath the silver dome,
A howl breaks free from the forest’s bone.
Grey furr bristles, wild and proud,
As snowflakes spiral like a silken shroud.
Around the trees where shadows sleep,
He treads alone where the silence is deep;
Summoning Winter with a secret vow.
2
The fire is lit in a circle of stone,
Glowing lights dance as winds softly moan.
Crystals of frost cling to the pine,
Marking the place where stars align.
A cup of peppermint tea, warm and wise,
Steams in offering beneath frozen skies,
As the werewolf chants with gleaming eyes.
3
The trees lean close with ancient breath,
Whispering oaths of life and death.
His voice, a thread of primal lore,
Opens the veil to the season’s door.
From fire to snow, the magic flows,
Through paw and claw and embered glows;
He seals the rite as the moonlight grows.
4
Winter listens with a patient ear,
Drawn by the spell, by the heart sincere.
With each snowflake, her spirit nears,
Brushing his muzzle, calming his fears.
He wraps the woods in sacred hush,
A stillness soft as the first snow’s blush,
Then curls by fire in the gentle rush.
5
And in the warmth, the wild finds peace—
No longer cursed, but granted release.
Cuddles himself ‘neath a velvet sky,
As Winter watches with a tender eye.
For not all beasts are bound to bite;
Some call the snow, the stars, the night,
And find their soul in the cold moon’s light.
Mystic Anomanly 