Coyote

Coyote came to me today; he said, “How do you do?”
I gazed toward him and did reply, “I'm fine. How bout you?”
A cheeky smile came to his lips, they curled showing gum.
His rosy tongue lolled about, and he seemed to say, “Come.”

Coyote walked by me today; I wondered where he goes on this day.
I followed close, he kept in sight; I wondered where I'll go today.
He trotted out wide and then skipped near; his back wasn't even tense.
He scampered low down under a bush; he leaped high over a fence.

We came upon a terraced arch nestled in the trees.
It was buzzing and humming, and it was full of bees.
He crossed the arch and stared at me.
“Are you scared, or do I not see?”

“I'm scared of those bees. They buzz and they sting.”
“That's a price you have to pay to follow me.”
I took a step and one more; my ears sang.
I closed my eyes and went through the human tree.

“See, you've come through, you're covered in hives.”
"They're red and yellow, they feel like knives"
Out of a blister, one bumble did roam.
I touched him gently when he was in his home.

“And how do you now feel?”
“I have just a slight twitch.”
“You can still walk with me.”
"You're right, I now can see."

I'm home.