.
Bear tracks
fresh and clear
like cookie crumbs
on the forest floor
we know he is there
so we call to him
let him know we are here
sharing his evening air
.
We never see him
but we sense his ambling gait
we never smell him
but conjure up the muskiness
we never hear him
but his snorts skirt our thoughts
.
We fall into calmness
imagining his quest
for secrecy and berries
among the trees and ferns
wearing the evening
like a cloak
.
By Carys Owen
.
Footnote– I read this poem at a poetry
evening on Monday then on
Tuesday morning I saw a bear cross
the road just ahead of me- the
only one I’ve seen this year.
Did he/she hear me?
Carys Owen Poetry 