RANDOM IMAGES

Slashes, orbs, fringes
of orange-red
among the gray-white-blue clouds.
Sunset over the city,
after the storm.

~ Bear ~

IN WHICH BEAR THINKS OF A POME

As it says at the top, this was never intended to be a poetry blog. But, well, I got writing poetry on other people's blogs, and the next thing I knew, . . . something different was happening. So I decide to let it happen, here.

I have absolutely no idea what will become of this. Maybe I will get too intentional about it, or too pompous, and thus ruin everything. (Trust me; I've done that before.)

If you are here, it is either because your stumbled upon this site, or you were invited. In either case, thank you for being here.

Your comments on the thoughts, or the poetic style, are welcome. If I don't like them, I can always go away, sulk, cry, or cut you off.  Or I can blame Lydia, Rachel, and/or Helen.


~ Bear ~

Coyote lies at the edgeof the urban forest,looking in from hiswell-hidden viewpoint. 
The odours are delicious,but a glance says, "Be wary."The bushes across the field move,suggesting hidden woes.Humans.Dogs.Wolves.
No, not wolves.Not this close in.
The rest he can handle, or quickly avoid.
The mixed aromas beckon.Slinking close to the groundcoyote transitionsfrom country brushto city woodland,trying his luckat findingthe familymeal.