He fortunately didn’t knock
Instead he stood on the grassy hilltop outside my door
In anticipation to see us, humans
I knew something was askew
When I heard the dog’s screeching, enraged barks
I strolled to the glass door
There he was, Mr. Change
His milky brown eyes staring into mine
Silence erupted around us, suffocating me with enormous tension
The expression of consideration wrinkled his face
My brothers flanked my side, fists clenched and stony faces
With the sigh of relief, the man with the gun appeared
And like every coyote, he bounded on his heels and swiftly scurried away
Leaving the indication of change in his wake