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The Last Bison
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Setting Our Tables
As the Red Deer relate to
The month of April.
So do we wait patiently
To set our tables
Our forks and knives
They work with antlers side by side
They're gnawing at the withered pine
Hoping she's the one
And my Father's Bride
Is tearing down the mountain side
Soon the trees will all align
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Leaving us with Sons
Cast them later than the older ones
Until September when they have become
Fully covered in a velvet skin
Till they're just like the shrubs and saplings they defend
As the skin sheds slowly
The mount becomes more stable
And I would climb to redefine
The path if I were able
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