The bear is in no hurry
as he moves toward you.
He does not turn away.
Though you yell. Though
you wave your arms above
your head. Though
you plant your legs wide.
He just ambles up the steep
dirt road and focuses on you.
At first, it’s not unnerving.
You’ve seen bears before.
But this bear is interested.
This bear keeps you near.
You walk backwards up the hill.
The bear matches your pace.
You lose sight around the curve.
A few steps later, it’s still there.
You shout until your voice is hoarse.
The bear is undeterred.
The moment loves and hates itself.
You think it could be worse.
You think it could be better.
You shout and wave and walk.
It is only later, after the man
in the old black pickup truck
has rescued you
that you let yourself wonder
how else the story could bend.
And your heart emerges,
something big and wild,
surprising you with its ferocity,
its unswerving strides.