Years end, and the last full moon of 2020- the thirteenth of the year- was given the name ‘Wolf Moon’ by indigenous peoples of the Algonquin tribes. It rose through the cold night las night and will reprise tonight. Its transit left me thinking.

An archetypal sound, resonating up a human spine, is a wolf’s howl from pain and longing or a version of a Tweet or newscast. Are there fake news wolves? Perhaps poetry is recited across the newborn winter landscape.

I watched the Wolf Moon traverse the skies last night signaling and end to 2020. It sang Haiku to my in the cold night air.

End of year Wolf Moon:
Howling this year in sorrow
For all that was lost.

Reflected Wolf light,
Casting ravenous shadows,
On the New Year’s snow.

Full moon and full heart:
A New Year full of new hopes
That this too shall pass.

This Wolf Moon shines down
On two friends who have risen.
And portends still more.

Twenty-twenty one,
Seen from under the Wolf Moon.
A pathway forward.

Stop. Breathe. Look around.
Feel the path of consciousness
Under the Wolf Moon.