COYOTE RUNNING

I hear the click click of my paws
as I run down the asphalt in the hunt.
My yellow eyes see all
as I sniff the air for dinner and danger.
There is something in the air
there is something in the moon
that causes my heart to race.
From my solitary den
the words trace foot prints,
foot prints of passion,
foot prints of danger,
I am in the hunt and know not the prey.
She of dark mane and blond desires
with her dark triangle trap
her nipples hard lead me on
as she moves and conducts the passion.
Nose in the air, I follow her image,
and seek to survive in her wake.
Her moon like fanny
has me howling at the moon.
She moves under her dress
and has me snapping at her back lit tease.
She smiles,
and this silly old coyote is reduced to chasing his tail.
She has a mate and all I'm left with is an image.
A ridge, a full moon, a distant howl,
a shadow crosses the face of the moon
an image we can't be sure we saw.
A
coyote running.

©Copyright February 22, 1993 by John-Ward Leighton

Author’s Note: This would be the last time I saw one of the models I had a severe crush on. She was willing but I dithered too long and she found herself another guy