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