Wild Things

While folding a shirt

I saw a shape out the window,

moving through the trees.

My breath caught in my throat,

and, automatically, I locked my doors.

But it was only the coyotes

going to the lake for water.
Their pointy faces shown up at me

in the sun. I put the shirt in a stack

with jeans and socks, and relaxed,

thinking how much my view has changed.

Here, even the predators are my neighbors.

They only want what I want.