The warm glow of my bedside lamp had been silenced for hours. A bluish-gray light filtered through the darkness and illuminated my bedroom last evening. The Snow Moon shone brightly as it climbed to its highest elevation on a clear Vermont night. A noble reflection of the Sun’s light and aptly named for a February full moon in New England…
Haunting yips and howls filled the still air somewhere around 2:30 a.m. My eyes instantly and abruptly opened as my startled brain identified the wildlife outside of my little house on the hill. The chilling trademark sounds of a coyote, or a pair seemed to be just on the other side of my window. Territorial cries echoed off the bedroom walls. A song as alarming as the crackle of ice underfoot while yards away from the shore…
The influence of the Snow Moon may have highlighted their path through the dense woods behind my home where I often hear their barks. Easing their nighttime passage. I waited in the darkness for the nocturnal demonstration to subside before drifting off to sleep again…
“Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue, corn moon?” — Pocahantas
