On Three Cats
Above Lolo’s East Fork
While cycling on Red,
You sprang across the logging road
In the evening’s twilight.
A young lion, all tail, long and curled,
A dark tan flash, nothing more.
Cycling on the Sugar,
The Dog River trail, early dawn.
A lynx, you crossed the trail
Before me, like a shadow with
A mask and pointed ears,
leaving large paw prints in
Hunting Hungry Gulch one November morn,
Blood sprinkled dots everywhere in ravaged snow,
Hollow tufts of deer hair about as well.
Finally a paw track to awaken one.
Then, was gleaned
Above one of the thickets
The rump of a whitetail resting quietly
Atop a white blanket.
What, grey and black, was peacefully
Resting on its head?
A bobcat, compact, serene,
Arching its back, remaining silent,
protecting its quarry,
Unyielding, yet magnanimous.
I, quietly departing.