• 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


the sprawl.

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