A Tree Bear
The top o’ that tree, it sure seems to me,
is the face of a bear, take a look, can you see?
The tree top’s a crown, it’s a head of bear hair,
with those ursine short branches, rounding out for his ears,
While from a lower branch his nose respires,
and that thick tough low bough to a stern jaw aspires,
Hollow cheeks and bare eyes, while they seem empty space,
are the places that most animate his bear face,
And he speaks through the breeze,
lowing in the wind he calls to me,
then bestills for my answer in the calm,
"I thank you, Sir Bear, yet I ask may you see,
once my Mother taught me
‘Son, do not talk to trees’"
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