The Coyote
© Carol Ann
I am a botanist, naturalist and environmentalist. I am saddened at the way we too often fail to live harmoniously with our wild neighbors.
The coyote came again today,
nearer this time, bolder,
hunting among soft mounds of dirt
where branches of our river birch
intrude upon the view from my window
his coat the color of lichens,
of clay, of curled madrone bark
and decaying leaves blended seamlessly
with a meadow long since given over
to mice and moles.
He stalked the meadow's tunneled floor
froze a rodent inches from his nose
waited. Then the predator exploded,
rocketed into the air, slammed
forelegs on the ground
straddling a heaving pile of rubble
sharp canines found their mark
and the coyote then and there
devoured his prey. Afterwards,
curled head to tail, he warmed
his coat of many colors in the sun.
Be careful, wild and wily coyote,
be vigilant and not too bold,
because they're here-
from cities, suburbs, towns they've come
and with them fences, intolerance
and guns.
Click to rate this poem!
[Total: 42 Average: 3.5]
Advertisements