Coyote Moon

The moon had risen and night was late
When I found I could no longer wait
But setting my tread at a measured pace
And determining my steps could not be traced
I left the house by the garden gate

And following the stars in their ageless race
I watched the moon’s uncaring face
And flinched at sounds I could not see
Or thoughts that threatened restlessly
Pondering the bitterness of grace

Until I woke to the lingering wail
That coyotes weave when the moon is veiled
To find myself at the fire side
In the window seat where I’d come to hide
And think, before my dreams assailed.