Smilodon: A Primal Portrait

Ancient chills cling to the earth as a heavy silence descends

Beneath gnarled branches, the very air thickens with dread

Crouched in the shadows, the Smilodon prepares its assault

Draped in pale gold, it haunts the brush with lethal grace

Eyes, intently focused, fix on an unseen prey

Fangs, curved like ivory daggers, catch the light

Grim power vibrates through the coarse grain of its mane

Hunched shoulders ripple; a tidal wave of force held in check

Imposing in shadow, it carves a dark shape through the green

Jaws, built for the kill, remain locked in a terrifying calm

Killing intent burns deep, the singular spark in its soul

Low to the earth, it creeps forward—a silent, golden threat

Muscles coil like wire, every fiber primed for the attack

Near the tree line it waits, a phantom in its domain

Outlining the distance, it measures the distance of its prey

Powerful forelegs, anchored deep, prepare to launch the strike

Raw sinew stretches as the great cat breaks into a sprint

Saber-teeth, the namesake of terror, are bared to the sky

Thick-necked and brutal, it slams into the side of its mark

Unstoppable momentum carries the hunter through the kill

Vales and frozen forests echo with the sounds of the struggle

Warrior of a lost world, a living embodiment of prehistoric power

Xenacious hunger drives its existence, a constant, primal need

Yielding its spirit to the cycle of life, the titan stands tall

Zenith of its era, it vanishes into the mists of time

Smilodon from 1903. By Charles Robert Knight.
Public Domain.

Garden Park Bone Beds

Near Cañon City, Colorado

Art by AI.

The sun burns in a blue, cloudless sky over bone beds.

Everything is quiet in the heat of Garden Park. A coyote darts by,
following a scent like a moth to light.

Dinosaurs once roamed here in ancient marshlands. 
In Late Jurassic times, a long-necked Camarasaurus and Diplodocus
reached up high in trees for sweet Mesozoic greenery to eat.
A Stegosaurus tried to move, mired in mud; 
a Ceratosaurus looked at her nested eggs and sniffed the humid air.

Fossil hunters and scientists have dug here since 1877, 
among the hills and cliffs along the Fourmile Creek Canyon.
Cope and Marsh1 staged part of their Bone Wars here, 
where their rivalry played out at a heated pace. 

Today, picks strike rock layers and shovels dig down through deep time
into thick Morrison mudstone to where buried bones of dinosaurs rested for millions of years.
Brushes clean, sifters shake, measurements and photos taken, and flies swatted—
a tooth of the ferocious Allosaurus pops up, then fossils of turtles and crocodiles. 
More bones, and then a flurry of discovery, wonder, and excitement. 

While standing on the brink of time, I peer into the past and learn
some secrets of Earth’s ancient times.
As the sun dips down, the day’s digging ends. 
While listening to the twilight, I let the milkweed fall 
from my hand to follow the breeze. 

Watching the evening end and the wind tease the tips of grass,
I think about these fossils and wonder what creatures, 
in a distant future, will look at our fossil remains. 
What will they make of us?

By Steven Wade Veatch
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1 Edward Drinker Cope and Othniel Charles Marsh, were preeminent paleontologists who battled each other for dominance in the world of 19th century paleontology.