Child Of Fear

I'm what wails in dead of night,
when it's late and time erodes.
A shrill howl that conjures fright,
while traveling down lonely roads.

The moon withholds its meager light,
as morning mist shrouds the land.
And rescinds nocturnal sight,
as dampness extends its hand.

I'm in sync with nature's way,
wandering blind to and fro.
And tread grass or muddy clay,
without a friend or foe.

Fragrant forest air smells good,
within shadows black as coal.
While essence of evergreen wood,
rejuvenates my troubled soul.

Like a wayward child of fear,
I tread upon virgin earth.
And quietly disappear,
haunting the world of my birth.