that every wolf howls to
Up here in the gables of the clouds
waxing my crescent to make it full
They all, with their ears pointed skyward
whine the lonesome destiny of want
And I fear that if I howl back
it will be a barren squawk in the forest
Indeed no moon ever
had done such a thing.
It is a refuge though, to find a curtain,
an evergreen to settle the shiver
If indeed, the howling should ever become
Atalie Rachael originates from Detroit Michigan. Her love for poetry started at seven years of age, and progressed into a passion later on. Her work generally revolves around life observations and experiences wrapped up in a language of metaphors and words. She has been published in Leaves Of Ink, and AllPoetry. Her favorite hobbies include reading, exercising, and taking photo's of nature. She posts her work to Instagram, and currently edits a book of poems to be made ready for publishing.