Meeting Coyote in my Driveway

She must have slunk up from the wash
that ran alongside our yard.
She might have ventured so close
for the smell of rotting garbage
I’d forgotten to take out that Tuesday.

I don’t know what surprised me more—
That she was there,
or that she hardly moved,
even after we’d startled each other.

In an instant I’d thought I’d feel fear—
There was none;
I met her yellow gaze
and her steely eyes latched on.
There was respect, a deeper sense of peace,
and somehow, humanity.

She crept silently along the fence line
and looked back at me in my astonishment.

Then, I knew it was her
who called out at night to the moon,
who broke sleepy dark with her cries.
I had listened to the lonely song each night,
as I lay hazily awake,
waiting for sleep.

Then, I knew her loneliness.

The Story of Clouds

It’ll storm later,
he said
and downshifted the old pickup
as they left the highway,
this afternoon,
and he told her the story of clouds
as they rose above the Tucson Mountains
in the west.

She knew the story by heart
and listened to his simple wisdom
and watched his blue eyes
as they told the tale of sky.

They took the back roads now,
making their way north
away from the highway traffic,
through the smoldering city.
Each block of the way home was lighter
with the ease of silence between them.

It’ll storm later,
he had said,
and as the first vibrations of thunder
tiptoed into her heart
she leapt up
and ran to the patio door,
feeling the rumble in the glass as she drew it open
and smelled the rain.

She called to him,
and they stood,
listening to the turbulent story of monsoon

as it swept up the aching silence of desert.