Brothers Within This Darkness

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Lone coyote whispers

through the shallow grasses that

bind the ridge above to the creek below.

The moon throws off the last of its

refractions from the deep end of the indigo sky.

This morning he is lost in the

abundant daily question of life or death?

He has no executive function impeding his

drive to enjoy just enough. Lean and righteous,

there is no doubling up of sentience upon itself,

no hierarchy of needs, no thing beyond being

what he is in this world. His next breath is his bearing.

His next meal, the whole of his sustenance. Untroubled by his

profound singularity, his laser point solitude,

he observes no beginning, no end to this

moment of now. When I sense that coyote is my

brother within this darkness, blood-bonded in the

savage peace of waiting on the new earth,

I inhabit his breath in plain living, and

I eat of the meal with his hunger for nothing more.

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