the Coyote laughed at my joke
and said he had not heard it before

Whither wander you, Traveller
He asked with a grin full of rue,
baring sharp angled teeth
he teased the chill in my bones;
the numbing dread I was succumbing to

"to the End," I said, brazen tone lauded in ill-advised curiosity

Which End
retorts the Coyote,
my small fire dancing mischievously
in his timeless eyes

"Of my days,"
the river 'side my camp, sneaking by, made no move to intervene

Then I shall show you the way
He suggested
without much room for question

For I have been, and will be again
the soft fur shimmered with the stars reflected in the sky above

*and you are just beginning.