Coyote Morning
Coyote Morning
By Robert Allen Lupton
Coyote stands on broken sidewalk
watching weeds where children played.
Sensing movement among broken toys,
his nose twitches,
his ears perk,
his eyes focus.
A doll shifts,
her hair tangled, her dress tattered.
Her eyes don’t blink.
No cry of protest when she’s shoved akimbo
against a battered bicycle seat.
A furry nose pokes above
the feral profusion of abandoned lawn.
The coyote tenses.
He freezes.
He watches.
He waits.
Eyes follow his questing nose.
A rabbit looks above rusted spokes
seeking food and safety.
He finds neither.
The coyote pounces.
The rabbit squirms.
The coyote snaps.
Spits a mouthful of fur.
Stares at the hole under the bicycle,
sniffs the doll
and walks away.
He licks his lips.
Tomorrow.
He’ll feed tomorrow.
With no more people, all the tomorrows are his.
Robert Allen Lupton
https://robertallenlupton.blogspot.com
Robert Allen Lupton is retired and lives in
New Mexico. He has three novels, seven short story collections and three edited
anthologies available in print and audio versions. Over 2000 of his Edgar Rice
Burroughs themed drabbles and articles are located on erbzine.com
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