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I’ve seen few living things with bison’s force,
But bison would rather eat than cause abuse,
A horse that’s chewing only seems a horse,
But the bison seem to be inclined to muse.
It’s hard to tell why bison bow their heads—
Do they reflect, feel shame, or deep remorse?
I think the bison bow their heads, instead,
To acknowledge solitude and its long course.
The bison cross the road just one by one,
All time could pass them by without their care
Because they understand, it’s done alone
Their purpose walks from random here to there.
I wish that I could always contemplate
The world, the way a bison ruminates.