In My Neck of the Woods

What is in
Being a wolf, deep in the woods,
Howling away the deepest sorrow -
Of miles and separation,
The echoes of its despair
Reaching the valleys and tiny villages
Scattered in them,
Moonless nights,
And mothers hugging their little ones
Closer, whispering 'Hush...'
While their tiny hearts pound through
Sleepless nights?
What vent is in
A howl?

Or then would you swing the axe
Wide, in a big circle
And shatter this silence
Into a million fireflies?

I wait.