Coyote are wise

and know how to be

in the world. When one dies

another moves in and

takes the place.

They keep good sense

of spatial relations

while humans do not.

Out on the edge,

in California, there is not

enough to go around and the

greater bounding box falls into

a violated ocean. The people

must watch each other

too carefully and I often

wonder how their poets

are faring. Meanwhile, back

home, our local experts

decided to move seven

coyote to “wilder” territory,

but I don’t know why.

Soon we saw seven more,

spread out nicely

where seven coyote belong,

being who they are.

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