Coyotes are singing their morning call
They’re scampering through the fields.
The chill is biting as the full moon sets
The road they cross to no car yields.
In a pack they huddle around
Seeking food for the long nights haul
Howling murmurs can be heard
The echoes of their maul.
The sun is rising; they run and hide
You hear their cries of morn
They scurry about as light abounds
To sleep as a new day’s born.
John 10:12 But he that is an hireling, and not the shepherd, whose own the sheep are not, seeth the wolf coming, and leaveth the sheep, and fleeth: and the wolf catcheth them, and scattereth the sheep.