Fog…?

He's an old wolf,
a lone wolf;
never did
run with the pack,
preferring to slink
the world
unfettered.

He's always been grey
and the breath
from his muzzle
clouds about him;
damp, dank
and strangely cold.

Sometimes it gets
too much
and he'll seek out
a mountain top,
turn his yellow eyes
to the sky
and howl for the moon
his own air
hides from him.