This morning a bear stared straight down at me,

What have you to say from your position in my tree?

His big bushy head with deep and narrow set eyes,

A long nose with ears laid back were quite a surprise.

He joins a host of characters that dwell among our boughs;

Who pay a visit in their image so that we may be pals.

I take note of each and wonder at their expression.

Their games may keep me young at heart as I keep guessing.

Why my eyes, now so dim, can see the faces in my trees,

Who it is that arranges the limbs to make patterns with the leaves.

I think I know after all these years, He’s the same one.

Who called me as a child and swore that I should be His son.