this house sleeps,
dreams in the wild

night alchemy
the tree tops dissolve

the sky a soft black
no stars, the moon

frost on bone,
these windows become

mirrors, impressions,
blurry domesticity,

low incandescence,
what passes outside

passes unknown—
until a coyote trips

the floodlight
ambling an arm’s reach

from the house
betrayed by motion

he continues in motion
brindled black, dog sure—

by day the hares
and towhees freeze

when they sense
eyes upon them—

but these nights
have long teeth

befitting the fearless
and the fearsome