the blanket of air, caught on the tree tops,
the coyote calls of victory echoed, with
repeated howls and barks, they owned
that moment this night.

Blood was spilled, stomachs filled, the pack
would hunt all night till the sunlight would
make them rest.

the blade had only one purpose in his hand
demand the cash and away he ran, not before
he made a point of piercing any resistance,
leaving piercing cries for help into the night,
lifeblood ran out of one, while
the other ran out, blood pounding
at his temples as his Converse flats
                                      pounded the ground.

Echoing
under the blanket of cold air
trapped in the tree tops,
this night.

suddenly sirens cut into the cold,
the blanketed air with red flashes
and roaring screams, as the coyotes
crossed the road near where the
knife was stuck in a heart heavy
chest, with no air cold or warm.

the coyotes were safe from harm,
the man ran and ran, no knife in
his hand, as the paramedics, worked
hard to save a life right in front of his
children and wife, the call of the blood
was too strong,
the blanket of air got colder
                              got darker
                              got covered in blood.