Coyote Wind
Did you hear the wind last night
howling up the creek
whistling in the snowy, twig shaped shadows
of January’s full moon?
Did you see the moon
last blustering night
brazenly brightening the deep sky
dark of clouds?
One time, when the gale quieted
and all sound was frozen silent
I slipped outside in time to see
a Screech Owl fly stage front shrieking
“Wild, wild everything is wild!
Everything is wild!”
The wind rose again as I huddled under a tree
It pushed me through a tunnel
into the reckless freedom of space and adventure,
shattering the stale sameness
that orbits everyday life.
It sang a new way into being and then,
returned me to my bed, freshened,
where the barking spirit of Coyote
stalked my sleep
and dreams dripped into an awakened life.
©Carole Fults photo and poem
Inside-out Art and Writing 
I love your voice in these poems!!!
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The language (blustering/brazenly/brightening, and deep/dark and dreams/dripped) oy, delicious! And then that idea of having the old stale stuff washed out of you, blown out of you, by wind and moon and animal sound. In these days and nights of February too-cold-to-go-out, I am looking forward to a blustery brazen brightening in the wind sometime soon, when it won’t freeze my face off. Thank you.
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