It was not even ten o’clock,
And the coyotes called to one another
In the cow pasture. I told you
About it. I told you because you say
You are a werewolf,
Your breath hinting of the moon,
Your face that rarely smiles
Hiding threefold secrets you may
Unwrap some night when we know
Each other better, when the night
Becomes a gift we can no longer
Leave unopened beneath a tree
Where the dirt is a map
Of coyote tracks left when
It was not even ten o’clock.

–Shaun Perkins