At my Men With Cancer writers’ group of August 25th, the writing prompt was “Competition.” This is what I wrote:
We visited the Riverview Cemetery last week, Doyle and I. Truth be told, I dragged Doyle there with me. I’m a green burial plot owner, and I wanted to see my plot and its surroundings in the morning sun from the East.
Although the hour was early, a couple of parties were already at the site, evidently an early graveside service and a couple visiting a recently-interred loved one with their dog. I was also looking for a sign of completion — a sign that Eddy and I had completed the arrangements for a “final rest” in a good way.
I looked up the hillside and remarked to Doyle, “Look, a coyote loping through the midst of the people and their pets with such obvious self-confidence. You can always recognize a coyote — even if you don’t think you have ever seen one before. They are never frightened — just there, immune to danger and above the fray.”
Yes, I recognized my sign, the age-old sign of the trickster, the shape-shifting presence of the coyote. May he safely inhabit this place forever.