Buffalo emerge from the morning mist,

Grunting to remain interconnected,

Overcoming poor eyesight.

In times of peril, warriors encircle the herd

Until the threat passes—

Thundering hooves protect the heart.

In times of peace, matriarchs hold the living edge—

Stillness, rest, and rumination.

Cloven hooves stabilize the troop:

Right digit walks in love,

Left digit runs forward from fear.

Together, they walk migratory paths,

Loosening soil, carving wallows—

Golden prairie bowls ready to receive rain.

Shadows of moving mountains—

The ground shakes

As a deafening roar approaches.

The herd loses itself in the sunset.

Wild eyes watch storms

Flash across the sky,

Charging headlong into peak forces of the squall,

Searching for the eye of the needle—

Seeking stillness and reprieve at its center.

Running toward freedom,

Lunging over the cliff—

Sacred reciprocity.

The honor of one for the honor of all.

Dropping the body,

They become the grassy plains.