Stumbling over the land, footfalls
Rumbling with the discontent of
Evolution, large animals, their blood
Chilled for life on a tropical planet
Tumbling through history as
Eons roar through their veins,
Leaving their mark in museums
And in books, in archaeological
Digs, or our imaginations, out of
Our memories. They were never our
Neighbors, pets or prey nor we
Theirs, their romp through our
Backyards and Jurassic Parks is
The stuff of fiction and movies.
Their tread startling the mire and
Mud, they walk the planet only in
The imagings of small boys or
Grown fantaists who see them a
Loud and menacing presence, as
If reclaiming their past can join it
To ours
Tamara, really 