COYOTE CALLS HIS BROTHERS
Sometimes you drive through midnight
into the endless dark star of Amarillo,
through Tulsa, Springfield,
and the swift sunrise of St. Louis.
Sometimes you drive through the Midwest
fog of November - St.Paul, Madison,
and into the dead deer hills of Hallstead.
The ladies of Wellesley lurk in ambush.
Within the white god clouds of Goshen
angels spread the intricate mist of their wings,
and sometimes you circle around snowstorms,
waiting to bring your brothers home.
Roy Ricci, soon to retire from UNM Biology and move into another era of Poetry & photography."Lately Photography has ruled both my time and senses,but looking forward to reach that nirvana of Poetry time. With the mentorship of Larry I self-published my first book of poems and eventually assisted others through the publishing process.
"The poem 'Coyote Calls His Brothers' is reality based, actually driving from Albuquerque at midnight after an emergency call from back East."
Roy Ricci Photograph: Nude With Mask
Do tell your friends to look for poetry here every Sunday and link to the poem when you can. Poetry submissions are welcome, in fact needed or the dead poets, as worthy as they are, will take over this page. Email firstname.lastname@example.org