Bernal Coyote

How now

In this freeway'd 

New age can a coyote

Hunt and hide,

Finding life

In such a meager splotch

Of green?

As the cityscape's 

Incandescent essence

Twinkle-blinks awake,

What does it mean 

For my own gray-dimmed mind

And fog-soaked soul

To have just now 

Seen such a thing?

The coyote alone,

A hilltop silhouette,

Struck and stilled me

Like a prophet and picture

Of my lone urban

Bernal prayer:

To find life here

And to find it truly fertile...

And to find myself then

Fertilized into a kind

Of picture-patch 

Of resurrection green.