There Is A Bison In The Front Yard Ancient rhinoceros of our plains, one solitary bull shuffles and snuffles through autumn grasses. Mahogany mane surrounds a neckless horned head, and drapes humped shoulders, carpets upper front legs. There the robe ends, exposing naked buttocks, slender ankles, delicate hooves. Barely balancing a bow-legged bulk, he precisely … More Featured Poem, January 7, 2018