The Shallow Road Poem by Romella Kitchens

From the areas of the glaciers.
From the areas of the hard Winter cold
ground.

Here come the Elk, majestic and proud across
the frozen road and down to some needed
foraging in the ravine.
Down past death and redemption.
Down past the damnable in man and the sin
of what he does.
Down past the dirges and the dregs.
Down, down. Not regretful.
With no mortal anger or remorse.

My heart aches when I can no longer see them…
No city, no man made these or those meaning
as much to me as this soft singular moment.

There is a tiny, green inn near the road's hip
shaped side but nothing else for miles.

Would mankind be more peaceful if it saw the Elk even once?
I cannot conjecture about this.
I know only that seeing the Elk planted such
seeds in my soul.
Now, if you will open your warm palm.
I will place some of those life seeds in
your hand, fold your waiting fingers around
them then smile.