The prairie is here, waiting
for a city to be built on top of it.
Contained within a rough sketch
of mountain, its trees whistling out
a scratched tune like a child
with fingers too small
to cover the holes of her recorder.
All along the coyote’s breath
has been thickening to smog.
His snout points to a different moon
each night and the howl follows
with it like a shadow.
The branches let go of their leaves
in preparation for the worst.
Alex Greenberg is a 15-year-old poet whose work can be found or is forthcoming in The Florida Review, The Cortland Review, Kweli, and Spinning Jenny, among others. He was the recipient of the 2014 46er Prize for the Adirondack Review and the Critical Pass Review Junior Poets Prize.