I am a daughter of the moon.

Night wild, free.

I run with puma;

I scream; I howl,

Moonstruck, blood borne.

My neighbor walked out her door to find a female puma lying in her lawn.  The puma arose and ambled away.   At night when I stop my vehicle to open my drive gate, I wonder if she lurks behind the juniper tree, pounce ready.  My daughter dreams puma dreams:  a puma chases her up a tree.  It does not matter that there are no trees here big enough to climb.  When I hike the canyon or stoll around the house, I search for puma tracks.  I find none.  A Zuni puma fetish crouches, guarding my sleep.  I would rather die by puma than in a car wreck.

Photo copyright of E.J. Peiker.