The Bear Is Wading through the River

​The bear is wading through the river
If only I could describe its
Matted hair, its heaviness,
The movement of its clumsy mitts,

The river’s flash, its glinting salmon,
The churning of the water, they
Come from the bear. Where the river
Flows, aspens grow, raccoons play,

Twisting vines, turtles tangled
In the scrub. Now men stand at
The river. They are taking data,
Unpeeling the secrets of moths and bats,

In the river, they find the salmon
And their eggs, clubtails, mayflies,
And the river branches into streams
Of northern pike, of walleyes,

And northern leopard frogs, and
Elk and moose, with their feet
In the mud, soaking moss and snails,
The bears catch the salmon, they eat,

At night, the men lie on the backs,
They watch the dizzying stars,
They rejoice in the smell of pine
Along the river they find feldspars,

The river will feed them, its
Rapids will froth for their children,
The beaver will swim from its lodge,
The bear will lumber out of its den.