She-Bear

Very nervous she seemed,

Glancing often at the trees,

Bird feeder, she deemed,

Would answer her needs.

 She was gaunt, without grace,

Made me think him, not her,

Old he-bear, dog-like face,

Ragged coat, matted fur.

She reached for the feed

With an absence of class,

With her aims I disagreed,

Rapped soundly on the glass.

She startled, set brisk pace

To the woods and was gone.

She’d not show her face,

I thought, maybe at dawn.   

  I was right, she didn’t show,

For a week, I found.

Awakened to sound I know,

Dawn, feeder on ground!

She-bear was back,

But now not alone,

A cub, fuzzy and black,

Within her mommy zone.

Baby zone, it’s mommy owns,

And proprietary is the word.

If baby bawls, or even groans,

Mommy’s growl is heard.

A bear three times her size,

Is unlikely to cause harm,

But Mama Bear is not wise,

If junior’s cries alarm.

She’s on you in two bounds,

Threat to baby, bear-law:

Her two hundred pounds,

Fury of tooth and claw.

Her health needs and wants

Filled and  her limp is gone,

But her gauntness haunts —

Conjures werewolf dawn.  

© 2007 R. Leland Waldrip