Coyote Confidence

In a monochromatic rime of winter,
white slabs of river ice
tilt askew
like Civil war tombstones.

Nearby,
water ripples in a bordering stream
beneath milky sheaths of ice,
pulsing its way
around solid stoppages
to the sea.

In a late night field,
by the South Blue Hill Community Center,
a lone coyote pauses,
its silver muzzle
reflected in headlights.
It fixes a cold stare
that transfixes me
for one silent moment.

He seems to take my measure
before turning
to lope gracefully
toward the tree line.

Such supreme confidence
bordering on indifference.

What would he have voiced
if he had chosen
to break the stillness?

No doubt
a word of caution,
for surety of being
in a soul like his
comes only
when the heart
is guarded
and closely held.