Coyotes at Last Mountain Lake

I heard the coyotes howling

as evening fell

at Last Mountain Lake,

and I thought of you,

my old wolf-pal,

and how you would tip 

your nose up to the moon

and howl mournfully

for all the wild places you loved

that we had lost.

Then you'd come to me and rest

your forehead against my knee,

wearily, for comfort.

We loved and lost so much together,

old pal of mine.

But, always, we had each other.

And now I am alone.

My nose tilted up

towards the moon,

an inner howl

expressed in secret tears.

Still missing our wild beaches.

And you.

From 2015. For Pup. When I wrote this, I was living inland,  missing the beach. And now I am - gloriously, miraculously - here. Life continues to give gifts as we journey. I am grateful. Grateful for all the adventures I have had in my life, grateful for this peaceful time of savoring and summing up, of just Being with the sea and the sky.

To be shared in the Poetry Pantry at Poets United.