Wild Again

I feel wild again
like those wild and wooly days
we chased the buffalo with nights
spent beneath the stars.
Even my heart runs wild-
wild with emotion of tomorrow's
deadly hunt and challenge to live.
This still moment is mine, yet it, too, runs
free and wild with imaginings-
hearing the great spirits who make talk
above the mounds they lie,
when I, too, one day shall
hunt the great buffalo of the sky.
Feerless I will be upon
the wings of the bright and shiny bird
who nest on the dark clouds of night,
streaked from the deep like a fallen star.
For now I must cherish the warming campfire
which keeps my heart alight, to dream
on morning's fresh odors-
wildflowers drenched in gouts of dew-
conserving all other wild energies
for that moment
when side by side
the thundering rush
of buffalo.

Copyright 2008 Francis Don Daniels

The Only Place On Earth

Strolling down the walk
I shake my head in disbelief:
storefronts with unfamiliar names,
the buildings now grown taller-
shutting the sun from the neglected
park below-
the frenzied horde of people, SUVs,
shooting headlong toward some other place
than this place I know.
How I loved whiling away
on the old park bench, dreaming
in cadence to the sun prickling
my skin, the symphonic play of foraging pigeons,
the occasional smile of a passing face.
I try and steel myself against
the emptiness of loss,
the pain of wounded memories held
sacredly in my mind, the thought
I may never reclaim
that time that seemed so perfect,
as though it were
the only place
on Earth.

Copyright 2008 Francis Don Daniels