up the dipping road
mountain arm is bear’s shoulder
my home lies below
______________________________________
Multiple joys of September, cloud fingers dip into mountain creases, swamp maples step forward, my pine flags flying, one more trip around the sun complete
down in our back woods
I found the bear’s prize seed bin
empty but with scoop
We think she ambled up our hill
and grabbed the seed bin
left outside our door
then took her prize down to
the stream-cut woods
behind the house to feast
Our feeders are aswarm again
returning snowbirds and
winter stalwarts busy feeding
none of whom would care she came
unless denied their food
But the squirrels and I are glad
that she was choosy in her way
Do you think if I asked nicely
she would return my scoop?
Life With Horace 