compy: (nails)
( Sep. 26th, 2007 11:08 pm)
The coyotes are noisy tonight.

Their high pitched yaps and wails drag me from my chair, and I open the patio doors. The cold air pours over me like a river of darkness. I reach for my robe.

It must be the Hunter moon that they howl at. Usually they sing when a siren goes off; the fire sirens, a car alarm. Sometimes I swear they howl at obnoxious ring tones. But the night is still and quiet except for coyotes; it must be the moon.
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