Beast and Beauty

(American Buffalo & Western Meadowlark)

Breezes whisper over low, rolling hills,
blurring flowers,
swaying grasses,
carrying songs of birds to all who listen.

Beast meets beauty.
In peace they rest, watching.
Neither knew the thundering of countless hooves,
the woolly waves that once obscured the plain.

It’s a kindness, I think, the never knowing.
The pain of memory too much.
The loss unimaginable.
Will flickering hope turn to despair
or begin anew the saga of America’s bison?