Thursday, June 23, 2016

Ursa Parkway

In the morning of the third day on the great blue ridge, we saw a bear.
It was slowly crossing from the dark side of the road to sunshine,
like memory giving way to now. I stopped the car to take a picture.
When I started it again, the bear observed the sound and saw whatever
cars appear to be to it, and spun around and slowly galloped, bounded,
skipped away, whatever word describes that certain movement of a bear,
its arms when standing now becoming legs—then stopped and turned
as if to say so follow me already. All this happened in a few fast seconds.
Then it crossed and watched us pass from shelter of a roadside thicket.
Thoughts cannot describe experience, its eyes were shining back at us,
but words can tell us pay attention to the splendid serendipity of the way.

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