• evewestbessier

The Wednesday Morning Post


Between River and Condos


Up on the parched levee,

sunset approaching,

cottonwood down

gathers in billows, shifting

in warm updrafts.


A handful on the palm

makes my hand feel

lighter than air.


High-pitched peeping,

a rustle in the underbrush,

six eyes expecting dinner,

three coyote pups

born here,

in this hidden den

on a slice of wildness.


Three small pulses

against

the sprawl.


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