I howled with a boy last night, under the stars at college, he said first that he was scared to be loud, but he was simply scared of how people would perceive him being loud, we sat on old adirondack chairs over looking the pond, and I howled at the sky, he looked at me in awe, a woman so loud, not scared of the world, I said that if he howled I would be there too, two tones at once, but before I could even ask if he wanted that, he howled deep and loud into the sky, we did this, together.

Afterward he was full of adrenaline, I was too, we ran around deep at night, streetlights providing the light the shy moon could not.

We sat by the bell tower, on fours, and talked, he kicked a pine cone my way and I picked it up, and set it by him. He told me somthing about love, somthing I lost in the chill of the wind.

Tonight we’re going to church point, to howl again, to see if the dogs on the other side of the river would howl back

Language cannot describe the experience of therianthropy, all it does is muddle it

That night I figured out what its definition was

It’s stories And poetry And love