Here
sere, the wind, the prairie,
this long loop.
Partner and me craving
electrolyte commercial luxury.
But Teddy Roosevelt founded
this all of it:
no need
for pictures
or histories
but a great call,
a hunger of footsteps.
Thistle tips sharp grasses.
A collection of hikers
a hill
gazing down at a
sweet grazing buffalo.
“He’s blocking our trail.”
An older man, wicker hat,
advertised trail runners,
pins pinching his walking stick:
symbols of parks he’s wasted.
This buffalo happily home,
seeing all that’s set aside
And pleased
to no need unknow it.
Man reaches for something
to throw
but the bison stops
him with a look.
Buffalo adds a bellow,
then a thesis:
“Lucky you.
Lucky loop.”
We turn back.
Three miles left
as before.
And I forget I was thirsty.
—
Clayton Tarantino is a copywriter by trade and a prose and poetry writer by heart. He calls Ohio his home each winter.
