Foreigner
The whir of
my car engine halts,
and I wait
as other vehicles
whiz by
one after another.
Oh, the irony
of this…
secluded in the mountains,
there is so much
traffic here!
As a foreigner
to this place,
I walk with
measured feet,
leaving
the smallest print
upon the brown
crust.
At last — movement,
color, texture, and
life in the wild
begins to appear.
My camera clicks,
and I squeal with glee
for the photo conquered—
the scalp
on my belt:
an untamed buffalo.
I fill his space
with modern technology,
gadgets and
gizmos, the toys
of my world.
Sitting in silence
in this outdoor
cathedral, I feel
reverent, relishing
the microchip of life
unfolding
before me as it has
cycled earth’s intervals
for thousands of years.
The bison alone upon the
mountain plain moving
to the rhythms of
survival — stark against
modern society,
he plods up the
roughed pathways,
and the wind songs gust
in seasonal harmony,
An ancient melody rises
from sun to star and
star to sun.
Ooohh, nice!!! Mom
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