A mid-February thaw. The patches of snow that remain are criss-crossed by coyote tracks; it’s their courtship season. I’m sitting against a ridge-top tree near the end of the mountain, typing these notes into my phone. When I stand up, I see the large coyote that’s been watching me—who knows for how long—from 50 feet away.
dead things
emerging from the snow –
coyote spring
That the coyote is a trickster is one element of Native belief fully adopted by settler culture (albeit distorted by our penchant for good-vs.-evil dichotomy). But of course it’s humans who are the real tricksters. We’ll destroy the climate and pillage the earth just to keep the party going a little longer.
cloud shadow
passing over me –
coyote winter
Woodrat photohaiku 