Friday Photo Poetry: ballerina on a bison

Bison in North Dakota

My future’s guarding every road,

sharp points attending burly glares

as if to say, “Forget what glowed,

and just return to empty stares.”

I’m not afraid of what might be,

the pain and fear that I must ride,

if only I can pass and see

dreams, coming true, on the other side–

and if, perhaps, it comes to this,

my future is where I will stand.

En pointe, I’ll wave and blow a kiss,

riding into my promised land.