I hear something, in the far distance
beyond the windowsill of my grandparents\u2019 home.
Hidden between the Iron Giant sized Idaho trees
and after the gradual cascade of darkness,
illuminates a kaleidoscope of cosmic colors
over the valley of flickering emerald pines<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Every nightfall, I hear its deep howl echo.
Traveling alongside the hums of forest winds,
it reaches for the distant moon and stars
while dancing around the curves of my ears.
Wandering effortlessly into my dreams,
jolting me awake with shivers of a thrill.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I feel the vibration underneath my feet
as I tiptoe across timeworn floorboards.
Hoping not to alert my grandparents
its way past curfew, one glimpse is all I need.
Then I could transplant my mind, into
the Wolf that howls, at the midnight moon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I hear something, in the far distancebeyond the windowsill of my grandparents\u2019 home.Hidden between the Iron Giant sized Idaho treesand after the gradual cascade of darkness,illuminates a kaleidoscope of cosmic colorsover the valley of flickering emerald pines Every nightfall, I hear its deep howl echo.Traveling alongside the hums of forest winds,it reaches for the distant … Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3284","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pa867U-QY","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3284","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3284"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3284\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3285,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3284\/revisions\/3285"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3284"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3284"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3284"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
Casey McDonald is a poet and began writing poetry when she was a little girl. She lives in Pennsylvania with her family and beloved dog, Lilly. She writes about experiences involving struggles with mental health, death and love.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"