Coyote

Mister Coyote

In the pre-dawn light of deep blue, Coyote slithered through,

quietly making his way through the underbrush. When he saw the strange human on top of the ridge,

the human was bathed in the first rays of light, Coyote decided to hold his piece, to stay quiet knowing the sky would soon be open

and heaven would be poured out. Because this human had his arms outstretched

face tilted towards the sky, singing, praying, talking to God

all at the same time. Yes, Coyote did slink away back to his burrow.

And when the sky did open, pouring down the rain, Coyote heard the strange human singing

even louder, so Coyote closed eyes and went back to sleep. He knew heaven

was not something to be trifled with.

       

Poetry © Copyright 2018, ancient skies, Image from Vermont Public Radio

Sagebrush

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Sagebrush as I walk through the tall grass

my fingertips reaching,

a feather falls from the sky

and the hawk yells,

“Good morning, my brother!”

his shadow covers me

as I lift my eyes,

searching the sky. 

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies