From the Porch into the Dawn
The coyotes woke him against his will
but he embraced it.
He was dreaming of the ocean on a boat
far from the shore. The waves were rhythmless and patternless:
mad and perfect.
The waves became sound --
each climactic pitch was a tangible epiphany--
every incidental fleeting harmony was true love.
Henry wagged his tail and stepped off the porch
into the dawn.