Out with the dog this morning, the air cool...The skies over Whitehorse grey. The sun, just up, is hazed-over orange. Playing at the school soccer field, the swallows are few today. Too cold for most of the mosquitoes.
The swallows are playful--dancing, bobbing and weaving, dive-bombing, nimble, aerial acrobats. The swallows arrive only after I hear the soft cries of the coyotes.
This morning I hear the crying, the calling of the coyotes.
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