A howl near my head. I resist waking, my mind reaching for wisps of dreams. My body answers automatically, a mother’s instinctive response to the plaintive timbre of crying. Upright, I recognize the milky light of pre-dawn. From my window I see the black-tipped brown hairs on its coat, the swoop of its tail. Near my once-wild burros, the coyote yips and croons. I watch, hypnotized. The hens cluck, my horse snorts, guinea fowl raise a racket next door. The coyote bays again, facing the ridge that bears its name, where new houses rise from red dust. Then it disappears.
Claire Unis is a pediatrician and champion of the use of literature and writing in medicine. Her first book, Balance, Pedal, Breathe, was just published. Find Claire at www.claireunis.net and on Instagram and Facebook @literaryartinmedicine.