A Midnight Feast

A coyote sat upon a hill,
Far above the valley,
And broadcast the news about his kill,
A call for kin to rally.

From across a canyon to the north,
An answer comes a ringing.
From the south, and east, and west,
Come echoes of their singing.

One by one they gathered ‘round,
The bleeding doe there on the ground.
And ate their fill, ‘mid snarling sound.
Two deer less next year.

~Kenneth Browning

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