Laughing Coyote



She lopes along a trail

under a blood red harvest sky.

Coyote bathes in ethereal twilight.

Her silhouette slows.

She pants tiredness.


A lone voice is singing

her plaintive howl rising

into mirth.

From legato wail her solo

becomes staccato hilarity.


A coyote laughs.


She works her way towards the mountains,

running on the Pacific,

near the continental divide.

A lunar tune is unmistakable

beneath Diana’s disc.


A coyote laughs.


She has been invaded

by nameless heartless

bipedal multitudes

while being forced

to take a new habitat

a new diet.



A coyote laughs.


The farmer’s shotgun

the furrier’s fancy

the hunter’s trap

the urban sprawl

has not defeated

this capricious canine

of triumph and tenacity.

She is stronger for them.


A coyote laughs


She is joined by others

and  a noisy litany

mingles into joyous

universal echoes.


They laugh because they commune.

They laugh because they convey

this pact of survival.

They laugh at Homo sapiens

who has driven them

but has not eradicated them.


A coyote laughs

because she endures,

and she who laughs, lasts.


~ by dianeklammer on March 27, 2013.

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