where the writers are

It is a cold, dry day in mid-December
in Santa Fe, New Mexico
Dad, Mom and I
drive in our rented indigo blue Buick Century
down old Santa Fe Trail
Our destination
The Museum of Indian Arts and Cultures
sits at the end of the trail
I look out the right side window at the desert
the Sangre de Cristo Mountains in the background
A light yellow coyote appears from behind cacti
long, pointed ears on upright alert
bushy tail swaying back and forth in the strong wind
black eyes watching the moving cars
Suburban commuter coyote
departs her bedroom community
to track the city
where she works
hard to find human food
to take home to feed her babies
Dad slams on the breaks
swinging Mom and me forward
to avoid hitting this modern day single mom
on her own rush hour schedule
as she crosses the trail
and disappears among thousands of cacti