Winter in the Bitterroots
Stop; the large antlered elk
Bugling from the mountain's peak; listen.
Up there: the herd bull, high
And trumpeting, sounding the entire herd.
Down there: its mate replying, squealing
Shrill and urgent, echoing their need.
The frigid foothills inhale
Their music, soft, easy, and now both
Bugle at once, symphonious
Fall arrives and disappears.
Eerie silence covers frozen tundra,
Thick snow blankets the ground,
Solid ice hardens the rivers,
ice in the blue heron's nesting
Ground, asleep for the winter.
Life suspended in the dark woods.
Today the steepled silence peals
Like church bells calling the faithful,
Loud and clear, deep in sleep
Now the large herd covers
The hill, the alpha bull's bugling sounds
Strength and resonance, they follow
An icy trail, pair up mates
And loping in long strides, make
A getaway, separate and apart, to measure
The snow blind junction they must cross
Over silent white meadows,
The silent black hills, where they gauge
Tomorrow's chances, gauge
Each moment, separate and alone.
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