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from Going Along… Conversations with Coyote

Magic in Mayo

“You say that as if unicorns are real,” I responded to Coyote one afternoon. Conversations with Coyote can be far ranging. “Well of course unicorns are real. It’s not like someone just imagined them,” he harumphed. “If unicorns are real, where are they?” I asked incredulously. “Mostly in Mayo last I knew,” he responded. “They disguise themselves as sheep, saves them a lot of trouble.” “Sheep,” I said, “when we were in Ennis you were eating the sheep.” “Oh, those were totally ovine, and very tasty. I’d never eat a unicorn.” “Glad to hear it,” I said. “Yeah,” he said, “those horns aren’t just for show, and magical beings never taste good anyway.”

Hawkweed in the Adirondacks

I see a blaze of orange hawkweed
in the Adirondacks
and for a moment step back
into the summers
of my childhood,
as a purposeful young beaver
heads for the Hudson
through an electric blue
backdrop of chicory.