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Uneasily, Gently

Coyote comes to our yard
Not easily, not commonly,
But gently, preferring anonymity.

He is on springs--Coyote--
Having learned, perhaps outside
Of town, that we two-legged ones
Are not to be trusted
So his trust is not to be earned.

His house is without windows
So he does not see me
Through our window and my lens
If I do not make a noise
Or lumber like the lout I am.

He says nothing daytimes.
Sometimes at night, rabbit hunting,
He comes in a pack
Like teenagers loose in the world
Crying to each other in chase,
Safely cloaked in the dark.

Although one never knows
What might lie at the bird feeder
Or what has brushed the cactus
So sometimes in the day he comes
Quietly, uneasily, gently.

Comments

  1. EllieFebruary 27, 2015 at 11:06 AM

    Great poem. Have you been enjoying your new camera?

    ReplyDelete
  2. Conrad RøyksundFebruary 27, 2015 at 8:25 PM

    I have been enjoying my new camera! It is odd, while my eyesight deteriorates, to enjoy what I see, better than I see.

    ReplyDelete

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