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Jul 2015
The coyote in the street,
the long lingering memory
on the edges of our town,
where the night is dark
where the moon is bright.

His blood is our blood,
we forget him quickly;
standing in the porchlight,
losing him to time.

Coyote watches us
watching the treeline,
and he understands.
William AL
Written by
William AL  Indiana
(Indiana)   
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