Sitting with only one lamp on
alone as only the old can be.
A far coyote's song has just begun,
his tribute to being wild and free.

All of the old folks are now gone
so I guess I've become one of them.
The chair creaks that I'm sitting on.
A cloud outside turns half moon dim.

I was once a coyote too
who roamed where and far as I would please
beneath skies both gray and blue
in woods still and tossed by breeze.

Slowly the years pile up on me
adding pounds while taking strength
making me no longer free
to roam trails of more than middling length.

Till now I'm here in this dim lit room
listening as clock counts my life.
The only thing that lightens my doom
is gentle snoring from my sleeping wife.