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.