from the left
across a grassy plain
a white ribbon of road
angles upward
diminishes toward a
flattened horizon
then fades away
pale sky traced with light
gray field mottled
with shadow
in the center
bisecting earth and heaven
a road sign holding
a humped silhouette
speaks of bison
to the silence
nothing now
disturbs the plain
only ancient echoes
of a thunder of hooves
their weighty passage
a medicine for the soil
down from the horizon
they swept and swept
eclipsing the sky
then faded away
how the unscathed land
aches to be broken
with due respect
to the long dreaming
narrative of grass
the field is empty
it awaits the bison
the road waits
to be crossed
— Peaco Todd