This is the bison I rode when Cherokee
and you were not, did not.
I rode it to ride with the Wind Gods.
On open plains bordered by clumps of brushy cottonwoods so distant they seem other
This is the shaggy creature you see, the magnificent beast we share, whose temblor gallop
shakes and remakes the features of your face
I see I saw you before quite indistinctly.
This was before you rode this bison to ride with the Wind Gods when Cherokee
and I can just turn my head to see you true.
Merci to Muriel Patarroni, painter of natures