Copyright by Merle R. Berry 1996
Coyote
You see them, the coyotes
On the roads cut into the hills.
They appear in the glare
Of headlights
Like thin grey ghosts,
Wary but unafraid,
Wide bat ears swiveled to attention.
A jumble of bones in a loose
Sack of fur,
They haunt the fields
And suburbs,
Existing on next to nothing-
Mouse, grasshopper, lizard,
The occasional household pet.
They stand with eyes reflecting green
Until you get too close.
Then, they turn and trot off
Unhurriedly, on long loose shanks
And vanish.
The tatty coats stretched taut over ribs
Evaporate
And only a caught gleam of
Eyes in the brush
Tells you they are still there
Where they wait
And watch
And live on the edge of our world,
And stalk us in our dreams.