~ Boulder River Wilderness ~
Bear Tracks © Ken James McLeod
In the spring snow are bear tracks of scourge,
They were made by a bruin on the purge.
He wanders effortlessly it always seems,
Now awaken, in between his winter dreams.
He is KING of the beat in paws land,
Usually walking alone "wild" in country ever so grand.
He is the one of long-black hair and claws,
The one who doesn't care if indeed there are any laws.
When he is near, other creatures can be heard in weeps,
For when he's around, nobody ever really sleeps.
Even man fears him when not or in sight,
He is the roamer, the beast, who roams the night...
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