Coyotes

He sings to me a bitter sweet symphony,
And I try to reply.

He is a predator looking for a friend in the harsh world.
I too am a predator,
I need no friends.

I offer to him companionship and a meal.

He is always interested in both.

My gun rests in my lap,
The call between my lips,
The air is crisp and unbelievably clean.
Too cold to be sitting here,
But the thrill of the hunt keeps me warm.

The air stings his lungs too.
It drives his hunger,
His hunger drives his fear of being alone.

I am alert and watching hard,
It could happen at any time,
A song dog could arrive at my beckoning.

He moves slow and cautious at first.
As he nears, the sound drives his mouth to froth,
Some are already feeding,
He can hear them.
Fearing he might miss out on a meal he breaks into a run.

I see it,
The head of a coyote approaching through the brush.
I serenade him.

Hey,
Dog,
Stop!

He hears a strange noise,
He stops.

I raise my gun,
Cross hairs settle into the furry chest.
I squeeze the trigger,
Feel the report.

He sees a glare,
His chest explodes.

I am thrilled and saddened,
One less song on the desert range.