The bear puts both

arms around the tree above her

And draws it down as

if it were a lover

And its chokecherries

lips to kiss good-by,

Then lets it snap back

upright in the sky.

Her next step rocks a

boulder on the wall

(She’s making her

cross-country in the fall).

Her great weight

creaks the barbed wire in its staples

As she flings over and

off down through the maples,

Leaving on one wire

tooth a lock of hair.

– Robert Frost

 

Black-brown fur rubbed against ochre bark, shaking off the last snows of winter. A tangle of maple branches and the crunch of dry leaves. Claws dipped in raw honey, clutching honeycomb, dripping with the juice of wild berries.

Art by Drew Rausch!