Driving home as if on a blind date
on a familiar route with an unfamiliar someone
tiring the poor astigmatic eyes which anyways registered little
a dark cloud suddenly descended
and the rush was halted.
Impatient honking and cursing followed
on a rather cool November evening
men& women, rushing as if on a death row halted.
There she stopped
by bright lights
or crowded streets
majestically turning to glance at
poor, wretched humans.
Patient, unhurried, even if death herself called
she stood rooted
until they came, the two calves
bewildered by the evening rush on the roads
eager to reach home for some rest and some sleep
touching her tits, rubbing closely
for warmth and love.
She then turned,slow and steady
a movement in magnificence
allowing her children to step ahead
A swish of the tail later
she blended into darkness,the beautiful buffalo.