1.
Through the years of my life
in all sorts of seasons
at different hours of the day
in various regions
and countless country sides
on hustling highways
and remote back roads
I have done
what the sign says to do:
Watch for elk.
I have never seen one.
The signs serve more
to intensify than satisfy
my desire to see one.
2.
Could the sign not be more specific?
Come back in an hour
and you will certainly see elk.
Or even, come back next week,
next month, or perhaps next year,
for then the likelihood of seeing elk
will be much greater.
At least I would know
whether I had passed
at an inopportune moment,
at least for elk.
3.
Who puts up the sign,
just there, for what reason?
Is placement based on sights
or on counts of crossings?
How many crossings warrant a sign?
Or is the guideline a close encounter,
perhaps occurrence of an accident?
Who suffered the most,
elk or drivers, vehicles or passengers?
Or someone who happened by
shortly thereafter?
4.
Morning sun, campfire coffee,
breakfast in front of the tent,
the quiet of forest around us.
Suddenly my wife says,
‘I heard an elk early this morning.
I am sure it was an elk.
It was that bugling sound of an elk.’
I did not even know that she knew
how the call of elk sounds.
5.
Diligently, persistently I do
what the sign says to do:
Watch for elk,
watching the road,
checking the embankments,
left and right,
occasionally glancing into the woods,
left or right.
Looking left
I may miss the elk
on the right.
Looking forward
miss the elk
in my rear view window,
walking out on to the road
and glancing at my car
disappearing around the bend.
6.
How many elk
have I failed to see?
How many times
glanced in the wrong direction?
Has there been no elk out there?
Have there been many
who have seen me,
yet deciding not to cooperate
with the signs
and let themselves be seen?
Could it be
that I watch and see not
but that I have been seen
and watched?