Is it the fire or maybe just September
that paints the park in shades of brown?
A herd of bold, shaggy bison crop
amber prairie grass waving below
gigantic silver Rockies.
Do the small calves by their side face
certain death from winter’s blizzards?

I reach from my car window,
touch the sloughing coat of one
historic survivor marching like a tired soldier
down the highway’s center line.
In the distance hobbling on three legs,
no longer able to keep up,
a potential dinner for wolves.

© by Glenda C. Beall.
Used with the author’s permission.