CoyoteI see him through the grainy
dusk, ahead and to the left
of the trail, gray form still,
listening for something
beyond this world, light
rushing from yellow eyes
that roam the darkening,
the feral grace of his hunger
brushing against my life
before he turns away. If
I follow his tracks, it could
take me years to cross
that narrow clearing where
he paused; years to find
the entrance to the woods
where he vanishes now.
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