Day 9 of Poetry Month - The Coyotes

                                    THE COYOTES

I could hear them on the hill, from out of the darkness

the call and response of their voices 

shrill, menacing.  

Long into the night they howled.

And in my half-dream sleep

I believed they were coming for you. 

I believed their eyes, piercing the darkness, 

their noses raised

had caught the scent of the failing creature you were  

and were coming to take you.

Through the long night their shrieks,

different than ever before, 

more menacing, unrelenting

echoed across the canyon.

I lifted my head to see if you were still breathing 

on your bed near the hearth, 

your head pillowed,

blanket covering your diminishing, fragile frame.

            Coyotes were just a disturbing metaphor, I thought, 

            a trick of God’s angels to ease the loss of you.  

            I would awaken, grateful there had been no violence 

            only quiet slumber instead, to lead you away.

But with morning, you struggled once more from your bed 

and wandered into the garden. 

Daylight had crept over the hill,

and driven the beasts back into the night 

bereft of their prey

And you and I, for a time 

Once more embraced the morning.

© Sally Stevens 2009