Thursday, 25 of August of 2016

Wally Swist – Coyotes

Two a.m., howling begins
on the edge of one of the farms left

in this valley, near the wetland
a developer has mown.

Such pure sound pierces the night,
this bloodletting beneath Orion,

this ghostly choir of thin cries
that tremble like Shawmut and Massasoit

come back to haunt us.
Then the baying of one hound

sets another hound baying
from the far rim of the opposite ridge.

Porch lights flicker
on the water of this delirious music,

and the wild pack in each of us
rises into song.

Wally Swist
July-August 2006 Earth First!

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