The Wild One

He stood in the midst

of a field overgrown

with bindweed and dandelions,

fur a burnished bronze

and ablaze

with the dying sun's light.

No less than

a mongrel—

a conglomeration of half-breed and coyote—

alert and poised

and proudly knowledgeable

of his heritage.

I approached,

wanting to run with him,

but he retreated

into the pines,

and was lost from view.

Of the two of us,

he was

the more fortunate,

for he was the one

with the ability

to leave civilization behind entirely,

if only for a moment.