Your Cousin

My body prepares for things my mind is thinking. Accommodating and wet always. Binge not purge in preparation for drought. Beef up for cold hibernation. I caught that scent in the wind again. All I long to do is rest next to it. Stay. For the olfactory to engage with the brain for the ears to hear the reproduction of the voice to conjure either you raccoon or your cousin coyote. I can see the plump ripe faces of our genetic experiments. The coos of our amalgamation. The yellow in their hair.