The moon obnoxiously stares in a mad, glowing fury as the night awakens with the bark of the bullfrog. Slim, everlasting fingers of a beaten and battered willow yearn to reach the barren bank as if to meet a comforting friend there at the water’s edge. Bubbles stir in the brook as a wandering wolf stops to take a few laps from the cool, black water. Howls echo against the trees, placing a sadness on the scene. With that, the wind bursts by with a shrilling whistle, shushing the night’s life and sending everyone back to the shadows.