by Paulette Demers Turco
The scene is frigid, bare, inside and out:
absent of color save the icy blue
reflections on the moonlit crystal sheen
of well-trimmed lawn, the shapely conifers,
along the filigree of leafless branches
of a towering oak’s so lightly powdered
base, while late fall light is juxtaposed
beside the scene outside the sliding door—
a coyote, white as alabaster walls,
eyeing the stark-lit inner pristine space.
He’s still as all the night seems save the sunset
orange illuminating sky and lake.
Or maybe he’s the canine left behind
by those with other brighter worlds to find.