These Elk, How They Walk

Marbled eyes out of time
with the labour of soft,
thudding steps under
heft. Shoulders rub and
grumbled barks line this
parade betwixt: where the
insects balk in warm shade;
all legs and wing and scratching
shell. Frost binds coarse locks that
reach as though pleading outward and
yet in to the pulse of another with matched,
cumbersome stomping. Eyes only follow their
counterpart and the trees and growls beyond are a
distant, rendered unknown. Be gone: we shall roam!

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