The Bear

His anger was like a cave inside of which lay a black bear
That was a very light sleeper.
It was hoped the bear would keep hibernating, would continue to snore until at least spring
But time after time something small-
A misplaced laugh, a garbled facial expression, a poor turn of phrase-
Like an acorn dropping through the branches of a distant tree
Was enough to rouse the bear and to bring him out, marauding and foraging.
Then no one was safe;
The bear would follow the scent of the smallest misdeed- real or imagined-
To the container you had been sold as “bear proof”.
He would batter it until it opened and revealed its treasure
Or until something in a different direction- “Fresh meat over there?”-
Drew his attention away.


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