The coyote hunting a mudflat at Silver Lake
has that exasperated things-were-going-ok-
until-you-showed-up look that wild things
so often have, the look that makes me want
to apologize for the dry winter, ticks,
barbwire fences. The coyote and I are after
the same thing, fuel for the stove,
a quiet place to rest, someone to be with,
relief from the heat upwelling in billows.
In the moonlight we both long
for other times, and the sunrise
finds us with the same old hunger.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
The Same Old Hunger
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6 comments:
Some say animism was our "first" religion. This poem evokes that muse.
Love the empathy here, if only...
You created a sense of oneness between man and the mythological cayote.It reminded me a little of Tristan in 'Legends of the Fall'.
I like all the specifics you name. "heat upwelling in billows" is beautiful!
I really enjoy your poetry.
Love the description of the coyote's
reaction to your presence--I'm sure most animals feel that same way.
We all are just cold, tired and hungry at the end of the day.
The first stanza mudflat with dispositions, great... but not so sure I understand quite how the things you want match up with the coyote except perhaps 'a quiet place to rest'. The coyote's stove, his metabolism maybe??
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