They can be quick, you know.
Perhaps they have something else to do?
Ever wonder if The Wild makes appointments?
If Coyote has other matters it must attend?
Aside from changing seasons, aside from sudden weather changes (is there such a thing as a “sudden weather change” in The Wild? I mean, aren’t they aware of such things? Doesn’t their weather-wizardry put Two-Legs’ best meteorologists to shame? One wonders…).
They know they must return to their den, their nest, their roost, their burrow, to feed young, to check on mates, to do things only The Old Ones alone know how to do or which even should be done?
If only we had the millions of years of accumulated wisdom as do they.
We do, of course. We are both products of evolution.
The big difference, me thinks, is they pay attention.
How many times do I have to tell people I’m not a poet?
The heck with it. If people want to publish my poetry, so be it.
And wouldn’t you know, that’s just what Carmina magazine did with my Whispers poem.
And many thanks to Irene @irenejosefsen Josefsen for telling me to quit lying to people and own the fact I write poetry.
Some of which gets published.
While recognizably of poor quality (the video, not the gentleman who is the subject of the video), the attention The Wild grants Two-Legs always intrigues me.
And not just Coyote – as is the subject of this post – but all Old Ones focus on us when we’re around.
Survival, I’m sure, to many, and I doubt that’s the case here (meaning “in our yard”) as they don’t shy away from us often.
Such is not the case when our neighbors gather.
Then it’s hustle justle hustle get back into deep cover before they do something…
But I’ve interacted with Two-Legs enough to know respect for one’s teachers is neither a universal nor a given.
From early Feb 2022, The Old Ones return, and like most of us waking from a long slumber, they’re unsure. Shy, really.
It’s obvious they recognize me and know I’m not a threat.
Perhaps their concern is that they haven’t had a chance to put their makeup on, or do their hair.
You know, that “Come back after I’ve had my coffee” look? You’re still in your PJs, still have sleep in your eyes, don’t yet want to talk, might be coherent enough to listen to NPR but can’t actually find the radio yet although you might be clutching your mobile because you never really let go of it during the night.
Kind of makes you wish you were in The Wild, doesn’t it?
No need for mobiles there. Grunt or a groan’s as good as a snarl or a bark with them.
Before anything else, my deep thanks to Ann Christine Tabaka (aka @TabakaChris and Irene Søde Josefsen for helping me with my crafting and Søde for encouraging me to write poetry.
I’ve mentioned several times I don’t consider myself a poet. It is one of the most challenging forms to me, especially when I write something and am told it doesn’t meet any poetry standards.
“Well, I didn’t know such existed. Forgive me for attempting anything new.”
I shared my poetry with Søde and she immediately wanted to know where I’m published.
“Then get published!” she cried, and I was off…
…to Ann Christine with the said The Coyotes Are Celebrating and asking how to make it better.
“It’s pretty good as is. I wouldn’t change much.”
And she didn’t. And it got published. And Hooray!
You can read The Coyotes Are Celebrating in Carmina’s Sept 2022 issue. It also appears early in this blog’s history here.
A always, let me know what you think, and thanks.