A Coyote and Its Storm

~ personal ramble / story

Firstly, what does it mean when I say I am a werecoyote? Well, it means I am a beast, similar to one of a werewolf but as a coyote, though being a coyote shapeshifter I also have some clashing identity. I am a smaller beast, I have brown, silver, red fur as a coyote but unlike a wolf, I have sharper traits and a smaller build. I find myself to have more connection with the half moon or new moon over a full moon, yet if anything I feel more of myself in storms over any stars or moon at all.

When it storms, I find myself either out on the porch or directly in the rain. I can feel how the wind and rain dances through my fur, how I can understand how my fur darkens and changes from the rain. I can feel so clearly how I am an animal beast. A were. I have a closer connection with the storms that howl with me, where the rain dances with me, the lightning lighting the clouds and land for me. As often I hear stories about wolves and how the moon yearns for them to sing for them, I hear storms call for me, sing with me, howl with me, dance with me.

I hear stories of how the moon will bask one’s body in light and let them feel more of a connection with themselves, and yes, I feel this I feel like I have an understanding of this, yet… I feel like how the light from the lightning, the way the sun dims and darkens through the clouds, or the green glow from incoming hail does this for me, if not more. I feel as if when the shadows of darkened clouds blanket me, they’re calling to me, helping me, guiding me to myself more so and closer to being my wereself. Sometimes I feel as if it pulls me in to be one with it, to be a werecoyote, a beast of the clouds and storms.

The storms are my moon, they carry a part of me and arguably are intertwined with me as a whole.