Heavy against the windows, the opaque night
isolates and infiltrates, sends
the dogs flying
to my side, and even in the warmth,
under the wash of the firelight, their ears hear coyotes
and the pressing sky plays with their minds.
With the lights off I can ease my mind,
see through the gaunt mask of night,
that the darkness is not thick but light and coyotes
navigate it like reflections and shadows alike. Their cries send
me reeling, fighting my urge to hide, knowing that warmth
and flames will not feel so much like flying.
I climb until I could be flying
and let the stars replace the thoughts in my mind.
The trees do not understand my warmth
but still envelope my spirit in the dying night,
guide me to the forest floor and send
me on my way, to search for the coyote’s stardust eyes.
At your side I imagine we are coyotes,
our laughter echoing down suburban streets, hearts flying
when we spot the cop car that sends
us leaping off the roof and into the sky, no ti