Slush, Prayers, and Xylem

Murmurs of new life amidst winter's exhumed graveyard

Out where our mud and gravel road reaches the black top, we found a dead coyote some days back when the roads briefly became passable. It was frozen solid on its haunches, as if in mid-howl, if not mid-prayer. I don’t suppose coyotes pray the way that devout human beings do, but I imagine that when hit by a car they might do as this one seems to have do…