The Collective: The Wounded Coyote
A hapless howl in the dark of the night
Rouse like the skin of coal he wore
Shadowing a fire ready to pounce and bite
The bitter pangs haunting his eerie lore
In his chest, a wound in the left, a hollow in the right;
A flagrant death shrilling from the core
I sang along your succor for aid
In kindled fire, we dab and recuperate
Dissecting to build greater barricades
And meander again this forest of ornate
Disheveled from the cold, yet unafraid
Bark and howl! Valor you shall fabricate!
Autumn passed for seasons change
And in the gilded boughs, stark winter perched
You shed into white with the mountain range
And clean you came, from stain you're purged
The pristine cloak in forlorn dark seems strange;
Through winter you held fire, whilst I stagger to lurch
A solitary game and not of hungry hunts
This coyote played and triumphantly taunts
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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