Coyote, his arms filled with roses,
clad in his brown, crisp WWII uniform,
sneaks in to his old workplace, leaving
petals and letters of thank you behind.
My grandmother naively asks about him,
they slyly slip her his air-mail letters,
overflowing with jokes and stories,
about Coyote-as-Medic in the Pacific.
With words, Coyote snared