In the Presence of Instinct

During one episode of hunting
bear, my feet scattering
stone on an old lumber road
enhanced for the movement of trucks
the day arrived swiftly on
rays of sunshine, trees squeaking
in delight--ferns billowing, the back of my hair
standing straight up as I felt
a presence behind me, not knowing if one
bear had snuck around,
something they are known to do.
As I turned very slowly
my hand clutching a .303 I spotted a
glorious sight, a black and white wolf with
fur ruffling, not twenty feet away
eyes bright, nose sniffing
at any danger. Seeing none, trotted away,
tail held high and captured in the
fullness of his domain, an innocence
in my spectacular view.

© Richard L. Provencher
Website: www.wsprog.com/rp/