Tuesday Feb. 2, 2016
No iconic song.
Wafting up from Fish Creek Park – middle of my night, while groundhogs slept, music through my window. Coyotes communicating. You might think it a howl or growl. No pretending, sounds to me like a call to gather, to-be-wild.
They call to us.
At the moon, or nothing particular.
Middle of the city.
Middle of the night.
Are we not all born to be wild?
written / published from Calgary, AB
morning walk: -7C/19F, some clouds, calm, coyote howls that squealed up from the park muffled by early traffic – Gusta happily marching along our familiar path and I wonder what my path really is …
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