It’s been forever since I’ve heard the sound of coyotes.

Long, pierced howls–a cacophony of deep-throated cries and squeaked screams.

They sound closer than I remember as I walk outside into the cold night, the little puppy I’m babysitting in tow behind me sniffing out his next spot to mark as his territory.

Around us the white mist of the night stands, shielding the howls of coyotes.

The puppy looks up into the distance from where those distant kin of his sing their nightly song, and suddenly, a deep-setting instinct rises from within my bones. An instinct to protect, to step in front of, to scoop up and grab this little puppy if those distant kin emerge in swirling mist in front of us.

And at the same time, another feeling rises within my bones. One that looks into the mist as far as it can, and recognizes the poetical parallels of it in my life.

Because my life, just like this night, is mist-shrouded.

There’s so many unknowns I sense in front of me–all great, honestly.

Getting my own puppy, finding another job, moving out–moving toward that life that some maturing part of me within me is yearning for.

But how I am going to come about this and when is all unknown.

I want it to be soon, and as I look into that mist, I almost resent that I cannot see the manifestation of my young woman’s vision now.

But eventually the night will lighten into day, and the sunlight will pierce the mist, melting it away . . .

melting away the “un” to reveal the known.

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