A long, slow howl is sometimes best,
the holding of your head up high, and
still. Keep your eyes on the moon; she’s
seen too much, and if you let her go,
she’ll spill your secrets from here to king
-dom come. Crack yourself wide open if
you must, release the Kraken and the
brackish water of your most scalded fears.
Call the wild to stay awhile. This sky is
vast and slow and small enough to hold you.
Prompted by Poetic Asides.