The Duck Pond Splash Down

In the forest's heart where the moonlight sleeps,  
A white wolf wanders, secrets he keeps.  
With fur as bright as the snow's own veil,  
Through silent woods, he treads his trail.

Under the silver eye of the night,  
His howl weaves magic, stark and bright.  
A call to the stars, so distant and high,  
A plea to the heavens, where secrets may lie.

Through seasons' turn, from spring to fall,  
He roams his realm, a silent thrall.  
Beneath summer's green and winter's white,  
His secret endures, wild and light.

A lone sentinel in the vast, dark trees,  
Moved by a breeze only he can seize.  
Across time's ocean, a secret ship,  
Through life’s forests, he does deftly slip.

In his eyes, a starburst tale of lore,  
Of battles fought and the scars he wore.  
Yet gentle as the drifts that secret so soft,  
His heart beats a rhythm aloft.

So sing the white wolf, under the moon’s glow,  
His story painted with the night’s own brush.  
For in the silence of the woods so deep,  
Lies the wolf’s tale, a secret to keep.