The Days of Lonesome Bear
The wind blew true then,
As sure as north was from south,
Rivers flowed endless, gaping bend to bend,
Sweetness from end to mouth.
Snow hares and bobcats conniving,
Scouts and furs exchanged,
One the other as barges arriving,
Left provisions for those estranged.
Dark nights descending,
Fed starry mantles of care,
As Lonesome bear sat mending,
Gear and cloth to worn threadbare.
Bear’s gaze held all it scanned.
The loving heart had no bound.
The spirit lived within the land,
And all that lived was what was found.
The days of Lonesome Bear,
Were filled with all he sought.
But, that was then and that was there,
Before all was sold and all was bought.
The sun has set, the stars have dimmed,
The path is rent and waters spent,
And nothing that was is yet there,
Not earth, not sky, nor Lonesome Bear.
© 2010 all rights reserved
Roger W. Bodo