east
i thought it was a coyote
howling at the moon
that woke me
i thought it was the middle of the night
as dark enveloped me
like a blanket
i nestled into my dreams again
painting the same feathers
that i always paint
but what was a coyote
doing in my studio
calling me to prey?
it was her plaintive cry
the ‘where are you’ meow
of early morning
the clicking of nails on wood
his dogness in attendance
both begging me to rise
i felt the irritation
of deep sleep interrupted
but woke to greet the dark
i let the dog out
and the sky reproached me
dragon fire lighting up the east
i breathed it in
awakening a song inside
this is what I should be painting
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