Coyote in the rain
Hunched low, drops rolling off back
Trying not to shiver
Wondering how tasty the little pooch would be
If the fence weren’t so tall,
Or the gate left open.
If he weren’t out of the rain,
pampered, yelping thing
Too easy for prey on clear nights.
Human stands at the door
Smelling rain against the screen,
Watching reflections on the drive and beyond in the trees.
Do foxes really gather in circles?
Has the hummingbird left for the Gulf?
How many leaves will need raking tomorrow?
Cold night darkens.
The cycle continues:
The dry earth turns to mud,
too late for the tomatoes.