Amid the cold and icy winds of snow their hunger howls outside where prey is short the hunters call to the moon for support, as packs still gather in her lunar glow. In depths of Winter when the winds still blow my Celtic kin revel as Gods' consort around the fires of ancient tribal court with wine and song their stories freely flow. So shines the Full Wolf Moon across the sky to light the Hunters' path as witches fly The answer sought when howling their lament. when first full Moon each year is gleaming high the wheel is turning from the Winter's cry and Spring shall bring an ease to its torment