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.