I’m supposed to learn some lesson.
I follow the wet meadow for miles,
face the mountains,
face the ancient alchemy of fear.

A bear follows me
as if I’m an injured animal.

I continue my passage South.
A deep bear sadness.
I wait and wait for the night to end.

In the morning the high scree
mountain fields are covered in bluebonnets.

On the shoreline of a shallow creek,
grizzly marks at the basin,
scent lingers.
The boar closes the distance.

Sarah Marcus