Desert Bighorn

in Poems

Bighorn comp Desert Bighorn

By the river
mechan­i­cally rush­ing
its brown waters

from the great
tur­bines, he stands
care­fully on polished

rocks, sur­veys the
waves with a dark
pen­sive­ness that bears

no rela­tion to thought
but is the arrow instinct:

to drink.

Then he places
one del­i­cate hoof
in the swirling

cur­rent and
low­ers his heav­ily–
crowned head.

We are all
what this
river makes of

us—frightened,
sad, ashamed.

The Desert Bighorn
knows none of
that, only the

flick of cool
dark water
on his lap­ping
tongue.

View all of Sallie's online writing in her archives.

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