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Friday, September 8, 2017

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.

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