Guest Wizard

Shaman pays me daily visits, speaking in haiku or senryu. Her poems are always good, often absolutely wonderful. Here is one I especially like:

Not my business after all

A maple tree
dressed plainly
in winter’s grey
is suddenly bejeweled
in tiny
black polka-dots
of birds.
They settle
on the tree’s slender
highest branches.

The birds
noisily take flight
when coyotes yip
their joy
in chase
from the woods,
not far from us.

It is not common
to hear
their yips in daytime.
They yip and yip,
and I wish them
no success.

I follow the path
with its
thin blanket
of virgin snow
watching
for the coyotes’ tracks.
And for a moment,
I carry a childish,
secret hope
to come upon the scene
of nasty-vicious-beasts
cornering
a helpless rabbit.
And then,
I will be
the hero.

But, then who will feed
the poor
hungry coyotes?

Written by Becky December 31, 2006
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