Behind the Garage
A coyote under hopbush:
Juniper-misted, a little fur shining
Off a growing moon—
Very still, watching
As I gather a handful of wood
(been gone all day).
The night hums, throbs really,
Of insects, vibrates high
From the tops of pinyon,
Then low as
The prone pads of prickly pear.
Between me and that wild dog
Light shimmers on dirt
From a spike of moon.
The coyote stares at me,
Alert, then pads between
Cholla, and quiets the night.
I carry wood
Toward the house.
Benjamin Green is the author of eleven books including The Sound of Fish Dreaming (Bellowing Ark Press, 1996) and the upcoming Old Man Looking through a Window at Night (Main Street Rag) and His Only Merit (Finishing Line Press). At the age of sixty-eight, he hopes his new work articulates a mature vision of the world and does so with some integrity. He resides in Jemez Springs, New Mexico.
