TWO POEMS BY GLENDA COUNCIL BEALL on this her Birthday

Violent Scene from Yellowstone’s Valiant Wild

A young male strode down the mountainside,

crossed the road, strutted into shallow waters

of the Gallatin river. He stalked the old bull elk

on the other side.

Grazing alone in burned out woods, the herd master

ignored the gauntlet for a while, then like a rattler

striking, charged from the bank. The clash of antlers

cracked like breaking pines in an ice storm, rolling sound

upstream and down. Silently I cheered the scarred-back leader.

On land once more, the battle halted

while both tried to maneuver bony-branched horns

between the lodge poles. A minute’s rest

then back into the current.

Strong hind quarters, taunt neck muscles, bunched

like iron cables, pushed, retreated, up and down

the icy stream. The match wore on for more

than twenty minutes.

Heads low, antlers commingled like old bones

collected in a basket, until the young stud forced

his aging foe beneath the water’s surface, held him there.

The veteran of a life of valiant clashes

broke free at last, crashed and splashed

downstream bleating like a lamb who's lost his mother.

Posing for cameras on the roadside,

the victor, centered in the roaring river,

raised his head and shook his massive rack,

bugled his triumphant call to his new harem.

Mountain Seagull

Mountains stretch like layers,

Payne's Grey parchment,

growing fainter

as they reach toward

pale cerulean sky.

The Bald pokes its head

up through a cottony mist.

Lake Chatuge wraps the mountains,

lapping love, cool in coves

tucked tightly between peaks.

Sailboats, triangles, red and yellow

wrapping paper, swiftly blow

before the wind that rustles

maples, locust trees

where songbirds rest.

My spirit soars above the scene

a seagull far from home,

But yearning to embrace

and build a nest.

Two Poems by Glenda Council Beall