Buffalo
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Thundering clambering beating bumbling
Creatures
Not dainty deer in an English wood
Buffalo
Buffalo driving the prairie to mud
Drinking the streams
Tearing up the grass
Like they will be torn up
to write all the things that make me
want to jump up
and twist and shout
i would make a never ending list
you would be reading for days
there would be repeats
Kansas, the place where my fathers’ fathers have made home.
A place where on the prairie, the buffalo roam.
But the place of Kansas where I lay in bed
Is much different but the voices of my fathers still sing in my head.
