Impressions of Yellowstone: A Portrait

He emerged, hair by hair,
out of the evening haze,
trailing behind him a hint
of moonrise and a herd
of anonymous stars.
With a small bird perched high
on his back, he trudged through
eons of time on hooves
of obsidian black,
red fires erupting
in his old blood-shot eye
and hot steam blowing far
out of his snorting nose,

shaming to silence the gaping,
rolled-down window of the car.