Howling at the Moon

 Tonight I howled at the moon, while driving in my car. And at some point that howl turned into monkey sounds which then turned into laughter before I howled again. And then silence came, and within the silence a question, When was the last time you howled at the moon?, to which I replied in song.


A song like a howl but sung instead of howled, melodic and calm, sung like a song, like some long-forgotten language, each sound rich and deep with meaning: Owww-ooooooooooh, ow-ow-ow-ooooooooooh, oww-oooooh, ow-ow-ow-oooooooooh..... Repeated many times until I arrived home, sometimes fast but mostly slow.

I sit here now at my desk, staring at this screen, thinking about the contrast between the playful, wild howling and the soulful, soothing singing. And yet there's nothing more to say, at least not in this moment. I could go on about the animal within or repression and liberation or expression or a dozen other things. But I'd rather just howl and sing and bask a bit longer in the preverbal bliss it brings.


© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.