Coyote Tells Why He Sings

Painting by Robert Bateman

Coyote Tells Why He Sings


There was a little rill of water near the den,
that showed a trickle all the dry summer
when I was born.
One night in late August it rained--
the Thunder waked us.
Drops came crashing down
in dust, on stiff blackjack leaves, on lichened rocks,
and the rain came in a pelting rush
down over the hill;
Wind blew wet into our cave
as I heard the sound of leaf drip,
rustling of soggy branches in gusts of wind.

And then the rill's tune changed--
I heard a rock drop that set new ripples
gurgling, in a lower key
where the new ripples were, I drank, next morning,
fresh muddy water that set my teeth on edge.
I thought how delicate that rock's poise was
and how the storm made music
when it changed my world.


Carter Devard.....from How The Songs Came Down