My tent is pitched
in the Sand Hills
far from the other tents
(not a misanthropic act,
just a desire for quiet
amidst snoring companions).
Jolted awake in the early morning hours
by the cries of banshees
yelping
yodeling
baby-crying
crooning at a non-existent moon
competing for the attention
of anything within earshot
with reckless abandon
and doing it
not more than
100 yards away
from my sleepy head.
Dozens of 'em.
Never seen so many in
one place.

The primal screams
intrude into my dreams
and jar me from REM sleep
to marginally awake
bridging two distinct realities
while inhabiting both of them
lodging themselves deeply
within my Brain Stem.

Soaked in adrenalin
Brain Stem demands an answer:
fight or flight?
I contemplate my options
and choose sleep.

Next day, I ask the rancher why
the coyotes carry on so.

"Probably a bunch of teen-aged coyotes
trying to drive their parents nuts!"