a furious stampede of buffalo out of no where, uninvited, shattering the calm still, a rift between one person and another, the silence and yet, the thunderous sound of hooves pummeling the ground, deafening. dust clouds exploding underfoot, punching the air. choking, blinding. everything is chaos and calamity, a twinge of fear threaded with a single, delicate strand of anticipation. the obstinacy of buffalo stop for nothing, for no one. and as the last clatter by, distance pulls the violent noise into something dull and lifeless, all that’s left is the swirling dust, the remembering and once again the fragile still.

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