Submitted by Linda Imbler
When I first saw that huge, live bison,
when I first ran my hands
over that rough, woolly pate like Brillo
as I sat upon the tall fence rail,
experiencing his strong, hot breath on my side
while he pressed his shaggy head against the fence,
I stroked his rib cage and heard his inhalation.
I felt the immense power, the massive shoulders,
of this creature of estimable magnificence,
this symbol of the west,
demonized or romanticized
by all who traveled across the western prairies
in the olden days of expansion.
What went through my head
in these glorious minutes –
a long dead ancestor watching a three-day parade
of bison across the front yard of his farm,
only about ten miles from where I now reside.
And during all the time of this remembrance,
I was afraid to look him in the eye.
Afraid he would see, in my eyes,
what my kind had, once upon a time, wrought on his.
About the Poet
Painting: Charles M. Russell – The Bison Trail
From Kansas, this resonates. Thank you. Brings tears to my eyes.
Thank you for such a beautiful comment, Elisa.
Thank you so much!
Thank you very much, Karen!
Magnificent poem. Your heart spilled over every word.
Thank you so much, Helene.
A very sensitive and profound poem.I recently visited the Yellow stone and Grand Teton, UT and the feeling of seeing these majestic animals up close is so awesome.
You are right. When you see them you know you are in the company of greatness. Thanks, Megha.
This is so powerful and well written Linda. Such magnificent animals. We have a neighbor close by who has a small herd. ☺
They truly are magnificent, Walt.
I really enjoyed your poem.