Clay-tan, eyeless, voiceless, even in a sense weightless, in motion yet motionless still for centuries and centuries, stuck in this motion of climbing, perhaps lost, these two Paleolithic bison, heads lifted, strained back to the black endless sky, as they climb toward sunny grass. Which black sky? Which grass? Rock-step by rock-step, up they go, on up and up. The black sky at the top of the cave. The grass that is always more a promise in a dream than that sweet kiss blown by watercolored wind. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LITTLE SON by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SYMPATHY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON FREE FANTASIA ON JAPANESE THEMES by AMY LOWELL BACCALAUREATE by ARCHIBALD MACLEISH SURFACES AND MASKS; 30 by CLARENCE MAJOR |