Coyote carcass on our dirt road.
Cold and lifeless yet pelt looks warm.
Just a few hours ago he strode.
In the ditch he "bought the farm."
Curiosity gets the better of me.
I just caught a glance.
Backup the car so I can see.
Stare for a moment, mesmerized trance.
One less in the pack.
Howl no longer hear.
One less set of tracks.
A howl no longer clear.
About the Author: Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.