Buffalo Smoke

The strolling buffalo surveys its scene. He is not afraid; searching for food along the large stretch of plain, grazing noncahlantly. The thick horns on the side of his head are strong and pointed. His snout releases large puffs of steamed breath. His hoofs are soundless on the grass-covered land.

Walking along a yellow plain, I see tipis and pipe smoke. These are not regular pipes, they are long and stuffed with sage. Buffalo skulls lay in piles, some lining tipis. People sit, surveying others. I follow my father closely and observe through dancing smoke that billows up in curls. The bright light is blocked by tipis, averting it from eyes. Though filled with wonder, I must not lose track of my father or I will become lost in the haze of sage smoke, buffalo skulls, tall tipis, and watchful people.

By Melissa Tatazi Brummett