Coyotes Sing when They Kill

From the hot tub
I see the deer
atop the northern hill
a small herd
big racked buck
in silhouette.
When I look next
they’re gone
but the song goes on.
I soak under the gray
shadowed dawn
the world awakening
to its hungers and griefs
their calls companion
to my solitude.
Later, in my room
kneeling in prayer
for this life of love
and loss I hear them
still in the rapture
of communion.
What they take
Oh Lord of light
and dark, sustains them.
Would that it were so
for us.