I make slow
my travel
up the road that winds
knowing the wanderings
of the night.

Guarded by
the blanket of dark skys
they will greet me
with glorious glassed eyes,
staring hauntedly
into the illuminated eyes
of my preditor.

They scatter
in fearful swiftness,
And I say to them --
It is well you do, coyote,
for my neighbors will give
no welcome here.

The answer of the coyote
rises above the hallow --
To speak the word neighbor
is mortal,
To know the word neighbor
is to know the fire
of an enduring flame


. .To our brothers
of the earth
blessed
in nature's childbirth
with our mother's love
we have injured you
I lower my head
and cry with regret
my tears burn
with shame . .


In the awakening
of the day newborn
I call to the coyote --
This is not my doing.
I am born
into this time.

As was I --
sang the coyote.
And in the parting mist
our eyes touch
searching
his song continued --
To you
I seem
a trifling.
You do not know
my pride
or my desire
for this time.

And the wind carried
sounds in harmony.
As was I
sang the bear
you do not know
my pride.
As was I, sang the buck
As was I, sang the racoon

And in one over one --
As was I, sang the tiger
As was I, sang the elephant
As I, sang the crow
And even I, sang the rat
you do not know
my pride.


. . On bended knee
I cry tears
over our mother
And seek
the harmony
of my brothers. .


jeanne rene