Bear is coming up,
towards me,
and I down,
towards him.

Neither knowing of,
nor seeing the other,
yet both seeking.

For years we've tried
to find one another.

Black, wet nose, sniffing
across boot tracks,
ears twitching,
alert to the breaking of twigs,
or the rustle of brush.

Fingers slipping into the depths,
tracing the mud molded paws,
ears cautious,
to the calling of cubs,
echoeing down the valley.

And what of our meeting,
the merging of fur and flesh,
an exchanging of ideas?

The truth about roads and cars,
discarded waste,
rotting trash heaps.

The knowledge of forests,
herbs and berries,
warmth in the womb of the earth,
deep in the heart of winter.

No!
We would probably both turn tail,
and run, hearts pounding,
looking back at that last moment.

A slow sigh of relief,
a low grunt of disapproval,
before returning,
from where we both had come.