At dusk I hear the coyotes,
Calling wind from their treasuries,
Vapours from the east and west.
Bark, howl, what else is there
In a coyote’s chords,
In the bray of mule,
In the whistle of a train,
In the whisky of a poet,
Than the sound of thirst vented?
You have such a way of conveying nature’s pure essence and then wrapping emotion into it!! Beautiful, Stephen!
You, Lisa, are wonderfully kind. Thank you.