Poems and Stories Found While Walking in Woods
by Stephen Harrod Buhner


COYOTE

There was a time 
when I saw the world 
coyote lives in.

I had walked up,
with a friend - once upon a time, 
behind the rocks,
the big ones that rise up, mossy-greened, 
and cradle the forest-shadowed ponds 
that the ducks and moose love,
to seek the slight-sloping, grassy meadow hidden behind them.

We half-lay for hours
in the tall emerald grass
amongst the ancient trees that towered over 
the drifting textures of the land.
While our elbows supported us
we talked of plants, 
and stones,
and the wisdom of moss.

Slowly we began,
as humans sometimes do,
to slip into the wildness of the world.
Our language began to slow
down, pause, and falter.
Into silence we drifted
and for some reason
that only our souls understood that day
we flowed with it, not talking.

Colors became more vivid
and the air began to sparkle.
Our breathing and the sounds of forest
took on a luminous quality.
And into this silence coyote ambled,
following a game trail
that flowed, brown runnel, near our feet.

Her tongue lolled out 
the side of her mouth,
and she was laughing 
that crazy laugh coyote has,
while her eyes spun 
as she watched the dancing bones
that lie under the fabric of the world.

Crazy, gamboling coyote.
Third force in Universe.
I said under my breath,
"Turn your head to the right."
And my friend sat up
and said, "What?"
And in so doing, lost her chance to see.

I, still watching, saw Coyote's eyes 
shift out of that crazy, spinning universe 
and shocked, 
no, 
betrayed, 
by the secrecy of our immersion
she flipped straight up and over
and ran, tail between her legs,
only some strange kind of dog, 
up the trail.

What I glimpsed through coyote's eyes
lodged in a part of my brain
I did not know I had.
I can reach out and touch it sometimes.
My eyes begin to spin, 
and I feel a bit dizzy,
and I can see
dancing bones 
under the fabric of the world.

I still do not know 
what the world 
that coyote lives in 
when no one is watching
does
but I do know it is ancient
far beyond the species lifetime of humans 
and that next to it, our world
is only a chip of wood 
floating on the ocean.

Copyright (c) 2003 Stephen Harrod Buhner, All rights Reserved

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