Prairie Winter Morningby Don Mock (copyright 2004)Cold winter dawn, eastern sky streaked with buttermilk and roses; snowy prairie strewn with clumps of white boulders. A boulder rises, first the small end, then the larger; others follow steaming at both ends voiding the night's waste and snorting into frosty air. They are bison. Behind distrustful eyes they know not, nor would care, in what awe we behold them nor of the role of their kind in ecology of the continent and in history. They are bison. They belong. (Manhattan: Soapweed Press. 2004) |
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