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...ONE FAVORED ACORN by ROBERT FROST THE BLIND GOD by ISAAC ROSENBERG MY MOTHER, 1930 by KAREN SWENSON |