these wild bison, so beautifully wild,
encircled in Golden Gate Park, but still
wild by that ancient form - by nature.
I see them moving slowly, gentle, nice,
bathing in ocean wind, bathing in sunset,
bathing in afterglow that diminish fast...
I see them moving in silence, yet with
primitive, subtle grace which reminds me
of an ancient time when land had no limit
but the horizon, and horizon itself only...
they keep moving, like bright chocolate,
like pink oranges, like yellow hills of clay,
like shinny, unidentified flying objects who
stop during their flight to new dimensions
from unknown past to designated future...
Hai Ning
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