My coyote and yours

Another morning,
driving into work again,
we both saw my coyote,
as he crossed the road
at Rabbit's Foot Canyon.

This time two saw him,
as he wandered that snowy morn,
gray and trim and full coated,
alone, and yet at home.

This is his place,
and I'm just passing through,
but he is fine with visitors,
so long as I respect his home.

That evening, as dusk set in,
I turned by the Clay Cliffs
and saw YOUR coyote,
walking peacefully and fearlessly
in his home, that abuts yours.

I am glad he keeps watch over you,
like a distant but wise relative,
keeping an eye out for trouble,
as he walks quietly by,
in the waning light of the winter dusk.

Coyote

The coyote came out this morning,
into the cold, morning, half light,
new sugar snow between his paws.

I, hurtling down the roadway,
taking the curve of Rabbit's Foot Canyon,
late for work.

Our paths met and he stared at me,
I wondered what he thought as I approached
my purpose clear to me, his unknown.

He turned and retraced his steps,
I hurtled forward, late.

Who's path was right?
who followed the natural meter of his life?
tick, tick tick... or the heart's rhythm?

God make me the coyote,
happy in my skin, with the pleasures of food, warmth, and rut
steering my path.

On this winter's night.