By Michele Vavonese
By Michele Vavonese

By John Gardiner

Coyote in the canyon faces me
soaked through at 5 A.M.
and in no mood to retreat
back to where the storm
breeds thunder and gathers lightning
for fresh assaults.
Coyote gathers resolve
and looks at me
as if I were the fool
I’ve often thought myself to be.
After all, what particular and lucid
excuse can I make,
just as wet as coyote
and crossing uninvited through his yard.

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