In the cabin, in the morning, the count was seven
Seen on trail, in town, the day before, one grizzly.
Mama and a cub. Mother and two cubs. Sow and three cubs,
Depending on who was talking. Damage to the fences,
Visitors stuck in their rental all week with bears outside
The picture window, going to town on the plum trees.
In the Apple Tree, no talk around the tables of politics,
Only of bears. "Went out on my porch at midnight,
Just to have a smoke, hey? Saw what I thought was a garbage bag,
You know, one of 'em big black sacks in the middle of my lawn--"
"A bear dragged it there?" "Nope. Turned on my porch light
And it was a bear, hey, just sitting there blinking at me."
Bear scat on the sidewalks. Photos on smart phones,
One of a grizzly that cleared out a campground, far side of the lake.
"I'm sick of all the bear stories," said the Rev. Therese Deschamp,
"It's all anyone has to talk about anymore." Bear reared up
In front of a car. Bear chased a boy on a bike. Crazy boy
Spotted on the bridge eating a sandwich, not ten steps from a bear.
I sat in the park, watching my daughter perform stunts in the playground.
I was special. I had nothing to say. I hadn't seen a bear.
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