Each year, some darker than others, at least
The flowers still have faith
And in between seasons, or light and dark, unlike us, they
Lean towards bloom—even in Winter’s darkness-they bend towards light.
Living hope is their homily they preach in silence and waiting.
May we also know
Their expectancy is
What we need to borrow.

This neighborhood we often stay in has many wild coyotes….I often record them. A few observations:

With the local Coyotes
The older ones start it all
Just after a human siren passes and causes the whole mess,
Then the younger ones yelp on-endlessly!
Not knowing when to stop.
I suppose it is all started by some emergency
We have, and how we signal one another
But it all ends in this frantic yelping into the night…..
Which recalls all our laments.