Michael Adams – Longing
I cut my wrist on barbwire yesterday.
There must have been something there–
the breath of a deer,
longing of an antelope,
a snatch of coyote song–
hung up on the wire.
I slept a fevered sleep–
a herd of buffalo so big it filled the valley,
a cloud of dust that darkened the noon.
Thunder under a clear sky.
This morning the cut was red and tender.
Later, I found myself licking the wound–
taste of earth and damp fur,
a memory of sun beating down
from a hard blue sky.
A dream of running endlessly
across a high unpeopled plain.
February-March 2001 Earth First!
Here’s a presentation on the annual wrongful hazing of the last wild buffalo.
Support the Buffalo Field Camapign!
Date: September 18, 2011
Categories: Michael Adams