Buffalo Scone

Earth buffalo

shaking  event

happened

out in back of

the horse stalls

when I was a counsilor

at a juvinile delinquent camp

in rural Western Pennsylvania

when the nearby snow melt river early spring time

raged  in flood

and the kids there were young hot bloods mostly...

yet more even more

was a young teen age buffalo

(not a metaphor for a male juvinile delinquent there, no!}

there  roaming somewhat free with an occasional big Pennsylvania

buck

and one afternoon I walked up on the buf as he

ate some of the horse's hay...

his cosmic brown eyeballs rolled

like an angry ocean's waves

as I said, "Hi Buf." And in tai chi slow

motion I danced slowly towards him of

awesome ancestry, awesome mass, awesome brain I supposed

in a wooly gigantic head not yet horned... the size of Europe.

Then  young buf, maybe named Henry after David Thoreau who was bigger'n a horse or house even

 did

myth come real like cosmic as

Mister Death in the flesh or something.

Buf, youngster, lifted himself's big bibig bigness up into a straight arrow straight form  upwards the sky clinging to clods and clouds, man, you don't know!

young buf who then  piroutted on one hoof

360

with a ballerina snort  landed about three feet from

me

and we eyeballed one another until I felt it

time to go.

I thought that a climax and a conclusion

of snorts

but later in the month when the authorities of the camp corralled him for being

sort of rude in a big buffalo way about bumping the director's 4 wheel drive which kinda of moved several feet the way the buffalo was going

I met him alone at the corral's wooden gate which he was eyeballing down

 and breathing hard steady incarceration hate

and I says,"Man, I hates to see you in there. Well, just kick it in if you gotta, old boy."

Henry had no self pity in his eyes

averted momentarily from that gate down towards me.

Chilly bumps like a night panther crept up my spine

And I went down the road to the nearby town for my 2 days off.

Upon returning I saw the gate in the road, a stomped on gate, and the formerly corralled Henry was no where to be seen.

"Wow."  But, the cowboy authorities herded him back to that slammer with a new iron gate... while I 

started thinking of my juvenile delinquents in a new sort of light

a love sort of light in a way love had never held

me before... 

because living spirits, cosmic one and all, need more in

the solutions departments...

my own spirit begs a beloved's mediation.

Reviews

[Amy Craig Beasley]

A wild encouter and a change of heart ~

nice ~