The Night of the Full Moon

The beast, pent up
for many and many a day,
roams around her cage,
from one corner to another
and then again.
She stares through metal bars,
sniffs at the air,
her claws sharpened,
glisten in the sun’s setting light.
She stretches herself,
scratches the rocks,
yawns in silent roar.
Every muscle and bone
pulsating, waiting for the orb
to lighten up the murky skies,
and set her free.
Alas, but just for brief,
to sink her teeth
into something wiry and young
and howl with relief.

© 2017 Erna G. – All Rights Reserved

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