the call of the coyote
I had just settled in for the evening and felt uneasy, my CHI out of balance for a reason I could not place so I rose and dressed to go outside and listen to nature, hoping she would and could provide me that boost I so yearned for.
I craved bing cherries that were purchased earlier today, washed them and took them with me and sat and ate as the stain resembling blood flooded my hands, temporarily and listened. I thought of the irony of stories told of how the armadillos used to appear out of the front shrubbery when my parents bought their home, the irony that nature had been displaced and as building continues in this small county outside of Dallas, the animals that once were present have had to find new homes and new places to find their prey and merely exist as they once did were we now do.
Out of my right ear I heard the howling of a coyote and looked at my hands, thinking the stains on my hands might resemble the prey the coyote had just captured as it was a powerful howl, one that commanded attention instantly as it persisted for half a cigarette or so.
The ducks flew over head, a low fly making me believe they had nested close by, possibly in the brush by the pond where I walk the dogs on a daily basis as I have seen them there, two mallards and a duckling swimming often against the current toward the corner of the pond furthest from humanity and realized that the ecosystem may have shifted but the animals' natural habitat had adjusted and close by, as if they were telling me and any other who was listening that they still existed.
And upon returning indoors, I washed the deep red stains off my hands and thought of the coyote licking it's paws and thought of the prey it might have captured and hoped I would here it again, possibly with stained hands like it's stained paws but satisfied as I was and complete, my CHI once again balanced.
I craved bing cherries that were purchased earlier today, washed them and took them with me and sat and ate as the stain resembling blood flooded my hands, temporarily and listened. I thought of the irony of stories told of how the armadillos used to appear out of the front shrubbery when my parents bought their home, the irony that nature had been displaced and as building continues in this small county outside of Dallas, the animals that once were present have had to find new homes and new places to find their prey and merely exist as they once did were we now do.
Out of my right ear I heard the howling of a coyote and looked at my hands, thinking the stains on my hands might resemble the prey the coyote had just captured as it was a powerful howl, one that commanded attention instantly as it persisted for half a cigarette or so.
The ducks flew over head, a low fly making me believe they had nested close by, possibly in the brush by the pond where I walk the dogs on a daily basis as I have seen them there, two mallards and a duckling swimming often against the current toward the corner of the pond furthest from humanity and realized that the ecosystem may have shifted but the animals' natural habitat had adjusted and close by, as if they were telling me and any other who was listening that they still existed.
And upon returning indoors, I washed the deep red stains off my hands and thought of the coyote licking it's paws and thought of the prey it might have captured and hoped I would here it again, possibly with stained hands like it's stained paws but satisfied as I was and complete, my CHI once again balanced.
posted by the warrior at 12:18 AM
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