Coyote

Coyote

High above the valley floor,
where the rocks are sharp and bare,
he sits back on his haunches
and drinks in the cool night air.

He sings a song of freedom,
of the wilds and of the night
and bestows his nocturnal hymns
to a horse-thief moon so bright.

Then it made me think that I was him
upon that distant hill.
For my spirit soared and my heart found peace
just to know he’s out there still.

And when my days on earth are done
and my soul has taken flight,
I’ll run those sagebrush hills with him
and harmonize the night.

We’ll make a team, a couple of rogues,
I’m sure he’ll teach me well.
For he knows the secrets nature holds
and can cast a trickster’s spell.

And his territory knows no bounds,
like me his heart can fly.
But my body’s still a slave to earth
and will be till I die.

So brother coyote run those hills
keep looking back toward me.
And deride those so more civilized
who can’t seem to let us be.

By John P. Doran