I used to be a werewolf, but I'm alright now-o-o-OOOOOOOOO!

(full moon tonight)

The moon does stir me sometimes. So many people, cultures, religions put so much significance on our closest heavenly body. The moon travels a regular path, lights our night, pulls our seas, reminds us of its omnipresence by appearing night after night as it has for the ancestors of our ancestors. How could it not affect us, not light our souls with a soft glow, not cause a tide in the water that is our bodies, not pull our curiosity and imagination towards it, like a moth to a candle?

As I make my way to this evening's resting place, a smooth, cool breeze of moonlight washes over my face and blows past me, off to awaken other dormancies behind me. As I pause and bask in the beam's caress, a familiar but unknown sensation travels from the small of my back upwards, dragging an icicle along my spine. That gentle, quiet sentinel in the sky has beckoned to a shadow of a memory from my past, causing a bubble to stir and weave its way to the surface. Without realizing what I am doing, I slowly draw in breath through my nostrils and it settles deep, deep into my lungs as this ancient command rises and takes control. My eyes close and my head arches back, pulling my throat taut and my mouth gently open. The command is a sound - a sound that has grown for eons and begs to be made - it coaxes and cajoles me to be its instrument. The sound is destined to be partnered with the moon and float through its eerie, bluish light. As a mournful howl leaves the depths of my being and slips fluidly into the air to join the other cries of the night, I feel that a message has been delivered, a journey completed. The moon runs silver fingers through my hair, tousling it gently in thanks for my heartfelt addition to the nightly chorus. Having paid my tribute, I purse my lips to my heavenly mistress for a long instant, open my aged eyes and pad off towards slumber.