Poem (prose?) about my surprise 3 a.m. visitor!
SPRING VISITOR
The dinner guest arrived late.
No invitation.
No reservations.
Alone.
Just newly awake,
belly growling with
a devastating hunger.
Drawn here
by a free meal,
easy,
high in calories.
A good deal.
He almost got away with it
but for a soft noise.
3 a.m. is the witching hour.
I look out.
Is he even real?
or a supernatural specter?
To Native Americans
he is a spiritual guide.
To Robert Frost
a being that roams wide:
“The world has room to make a bear feel free;
The universe seems cramped to you and me.”
Ursa Major dominates the spring skies.
The Big Dipper, a guide.
Under the stars, to my bruin friend,
I whisper “safely abide.”
I will listen to the DEC officers
and take the bird feeders
down until fall.
When Frost writes you will next again
“rock a boulder on the wall”.
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