They run like ghosts
the coyotes
twirling from head
and tail
turning with the swift fury
of the stirred dust devil
and just as quickly
stopping
on a small outcropping
with a sharp stillness
to gaze and make
contact, to let
you know they’ll be
gone in a flash,
just like you, leaving
their markings
in secret places
of the field.
—Stacey Warde
