My brain has been restless. I’ve been up. I’ve been down. I thought my brother had Covid. I found out he doesn’t. I was looking forward to Halloween. Then my son got sick. His fever was gone yesterday and his appetite seems normal today and we’re still going to the doctor later today.

It’s a season of lots of deep breaths. I’m so glad I got my ballot mailed back in plenty of time and tracked it to the recorder’s office.

I randomly found a great spot in my room for my coyote mask the other night. It brings symmetry to the window area. And it was getting banged up in the drawer I had it in.

Coyote has been a part of my life – probably always – but at least since 1994 when I had a dream that he was in. I recognized him in one of his disguises. And he features in a few poems I’ve written. He is a trickster god. He is of the earth. He brings chaos even as he tries to do well. I may not always want to recognize the relation, but I do consider him a spiritual grandfather.

I wrote this one when I was living in the greater Chicago area, prior to moving to Tucson. It’s got rhythm.

Coyote has Business in Chicago (2005)

By tooth and by nail,
By fur and by feather,
Chicagoland is coyoteland.

Howlin’ and foulin’ coyoteland.
Where old wooden barns and silos still stand
Next to shiny new corporate offices.
And the deer meander through forest preserves
Hidden throughout suburbia.

By tooth and by nail,
By fur and by feather,
Chicagoland is coyoteland.

Screamin’ and steamin’ coyoteland.
And people send vibes of
Don’t mess with me
In a hot and cold climate of pleasantry
And backstabbing.

The scavengers cruise the neighborhoods
Looking for an easy meal:
An idling car or junk mail,
Whatever’s within reach-
A done deal.

By tooth and by nail,
By fur and by feather,
Chicagoland is coyoteland

Thievin’ and heavin’ coyoteland.
And business transacts on holidays,
Because canines don’t take vacations.
And the rabbits, possums, raccoons, and squirrels
Lie dead and bloated on the side of the road
Or splattered against the pavement,
Until the crows that survived West Nile disease
Can clean up these rotten loads.

In Chicagoland there’s more fast food
Than eighteen wheelers on the highway,
But these joints are all healthy now- they’ve got salad:
Chemically poisoned lettuce and melon,
Injected with hormones and coloring,
For that extra appealing look.

And somewhere beyond the veil:
The mist and the mystery,
Grandfather coyote chuckles and grins
As he watches people scurry like ants,
Burning what’s left of fossil fuels.
He chuckles.
He chants.

He waits for tomorrow
And the day after that.
For the earth to renew herself.
And sing the coyotes
Back into the open:
What’s left of the forest and prairie.

By tooth and by nail,
By fur and by feather,
Chicagoland is coyoteland.

Yip yip yah-ee.
Yip yip yah-ee.
Yip yip yah-ee. Yah-ee.