Legends of Autumn
 

                                                                     I walked beside the stream running over stones,
between and under black stones.
I walked over grey stones and between large stones

The stream ran low in its banks
clear
past two large, live cottonwood trees
whose leaves began to yellow
and past the ancient dead tree with holes
where flickers nested in spring 

Above the spring that feeds Cottonwood Creek
she waited for me in the shade of stones
the shade of a small, ancient juniper tree,
gathered into herself in contemplation
of the passage from summer into fall
toward winter, white on the plain.

I showed her the skull.
"Buffalo," I said.
She touched it, held it, then handed it back.

I wore it like a mask
and looked through bleached eye openings.
Bison everywhere on the plain
Grazing slowly through tall grass
gone sere
toward winter, white on the plain.

The stream below me runs clear
over stones, between and under black stones
Buffalo wolves follow the herd.
Wind blows across the plain.

I stand on the high place above the plain
watching toward winter,
white on the plain.