Coyote Tracks

In the grey glass of a windy morning
dead leaves float like flakes of amber
above the damp sidewalk. Cold air
puddles on the porch steps. Overhead
a single crow calls from the wires.

It’s not your city only. Owls claim your roofs.
Every power-line’s a highway
for squirrel adventures. Beside your SUV,
a raccoon waits, ever-present companion
with his own agenda.

A landscape made by humans,
but untame, opens at your careless tread.
Coyote tracks lead away
under the restless sky and the waving
of wind-snapped high-tension lines.


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