Jim White, Buffalo Hunter
campfire must have been your best friend
besides your Sharp’s
Snake tongue flames
roll over the scarp
Comfort of cracklin’ pine
below tiny stars and ice black sky
Smoky mist envelopes the tree line
Bison settle in the night
at a safe distance, so they think
Soft grunts scold bulls that fight
Morning red sun greets
Jim with Sharp’s 50 Cal
shooting between heartbeats
Bison fall with each report
and with them this sort of life erodes
Load up the hides, head back to the fort
Corinna German writes with the Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness over her shoulder. You can find her on Twitter @corinnawriter or near a campfire, eating elk back strap deep in the Greater Yellowstone backcountry.