I sat there in my easy chair, stretched out and feet up high,
while snacking on the Oreos and a Little Debbie pie.
I polished off another diet Dr. Pepper pop.
Then Mother Nature made her call. She’s got me on the hop.
And at my age, past 70, when you feel you’ve got the urge.
You better make it quick, if not your bladder’s gonna purge.
So, I chose to step outside, ignore the bathroom up the stairs.
There wasn’t anyone around and if there was, who cares?
I glanced at our thermometer, reading 17 degrees.
And it always feels much colder with a northern frigid breeze.
The night air had me wishing that I’d grabbed my wool lined cap.
It covers up my bald head and my ears, a pull down flap.
While taking care of business came a most familiar sound.
A herd of elk were grazing. Hooves were pounding out the ground.
I could almost see their outline, while they grazed there on the flat.
But frankly it was darker than the inside of a cat.
The old bull elk sent out a scream and as far as I could see,
it must have been a warning. Scared the tar right out of me.
The old bull’s harem came a running, passed me in the dark.
He prob’ly took a head count then he sounded out a bark.
I thought I’d try my luck and yelled a guttural bark at him.
I figured chance of answering me was prob’ly mighty slim.
He didn’t disappoint me when he yelled an answer back.
I wondered if he thought this guy just might be talking smack?
Back and forth we bantered. We were talking, in a way.
Or was it just plain noise? It seemed he had a bunch to say.
The night can make a shadow almost thick enough to feel.
Was I seeing him approach me all too close to be for real?
I used my ears to see the bull in all his majesty.
We call him elk but he deserves his real name, “Wapiti.”
I listened as they trotted off way back into the dark.
I could hear the old bull bragging how he scared me with his bark.
