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COYOTE DOWN The reek of a poet's breath reached out as I drove the land pregnant with irrigated green to the left meadowlark and dusty sagebrush to the right in-swelling of nostrils vaporous mist rising on magpie wings a lone yellow-cowled prince lay its fur no longer able to freely amble that twilight speech slurred forever my feet stumbled on the brake noting the passage of 'God's dog peyoted trickster, reviled, perhaps mourned by a few we seek cool water, he and I. I wrote this three years ago, @lovebuglena and @Daddyevil. I consider it poetry and yes, it is also a "word picture." Not sure what the Horse would think.