i look over
what seems like 100 miles
but it's only 15.
these smokey skies
are not so charming
but the company makes up for it.
do you hear that crunch?
that low rumbling lull?
"they run from our sound"
but what if we,
are a part of it?
what if the grid we,
departed from,
is the same substance of my feet
making painted pathways
with dew-soaked toes.
but you were black bear
and now i'm lifting my nose.
because last week we ran down slopes
today we stand by a still creek
and sip
and watch the clouds collide, collapse,
and dance.
today we are black bear and tomorrow
we will stage a resistance
for the 15 miles
for the distance
