When we write, we write about things that we experienced and imagine. I have had the good fortune to come close to several large animals and took pictures.
This is a poem about an elk I saw in Yellowstone several years ago. I was able to get to about 30 feet (10 metres) of him, protected by the trees a bit. He impressed me with his calmness. He seemed totally unaware of me, but I am aware they are wild animals and I am the one out of my element.
Frank O’Hara wrote about common things in his poetry i.e. aspirin, lunch hours, and harmonicas. Sometimes, those things seem more exotic like this elk.
I picture him in my mind’s eye,
I recall the story.
Walking up the road
Down into a high-banked ditch.
Quietly, always trees between us,
I ease my way to this moment.
He appears unconcerned,
He does not lift his crown.
Cautiously, I approach,
After all, he is king here.
Head down,
He attends to his concerns.
I approach as close as I can,
One shot to recall I was there.
ivonprefontaine