A full
moon hangs on the horizon
as coyotes gather to give homage.
One lonely cry breaks the silence,
then another and another,
until the desert valley is filled with screams,
like tormented spirits caught between worlds.
All other creatures are silent
and the valley floor becomes an eerie
place.
High on a
ridge, a lone cowboy,
nestled down for the night,
looks across the valley and smiles.
He no longer feels alone,
for the desert is not an empty place.
There is movement and life,
and the sound is a serenade.
Now dark
clouds cover the moon,
like black lace pulled across a lamp,
and only the occasional yelp can be heard,
for the serenade has come to an end.
Other creatures come out from hiding
and begin again to move through the night.
Life has returned to normal,
and the coyotes sleep.
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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