A Howling Moon
"Your daddy came to me one hot, sultry summer night. Took my hand and led me into the bayou where the wind blew cool off the water, and the smell of honeysuckle and jasmine hung heavy like a line of wet sheets in the air.
And there in that swamp, surrounded by cypress trees draped in yards of lacy Spanish moss and the sounds of crickets, frog, and all creatures of the night, he pointed to the inky sky. The moon hung full and round like an orange fireball ready to bust apart at the seams.
"That be a howling moon," he said. "A moon so beautiful that one look turns your blood to a river of black fire racing through your veins. A moon so powerful it can drive you insane unless you yield to its pull and run and howl into the wild."