One hundred horses' hooves have made a path, a road,
Almost, between the bushes and the evergreens. I walk it,
Looking out for deer. Instead, I see a buffalo, alone, inside
A small enclosure. Briefly glancing up at me, it munches
On a weed it's found. I, likewise, turn my gaze from it
Toward the winding horsey road, and do so, as it munches,
Quite alone.