Friday, July 13, 2012


Early yesterday morning,
Leaving the lake villages,
I curled a shoreline switchback
Through firs and made eye contact
With a coyote peering
Over the old concrete berm
Like a front-row spectator.

I nearly waved in greeting
Then looked up at my rear view
To see lithe fur cross the road.
Veteran pedestrian
That one was, wise to machines,
Waiting for the way to clear,
A trickster myth with street smarts.

I'm bemused by the benign
Non conversation we shared,
Guessing how much religion,
Doubt, fairy tales, and visions
Stem from anticipating
A greeting that never comes
From something not one of us.

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