Thursday, 1 of September of 2016

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.

Michael Adams
February-March 2001 Earth First!

Here’s a presentation on the annual wrongful hazing of the last wild buffalo.
Support the Buffalo Field Camapign!


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