Today's poem is by Ron Koertge

Little, Small, Wee Bear

The rangers may have to shoot the grizzly
who's terrorizing campers down by Tower
Falls. The snuffle in the night, the nose
beneath the flap, the way he maims their
victuals and then mounts the mini-van
looking for a toe-hold in that other world,
the one he strolled in while the porridge cooled.

Pretty soon, though, he is great and huge.
The cottage and the comfy chair are nothing
but a hum that makes him swat his head
until it's gone and he's stopped thinking
about her. Then the tattered cots remind him
he had a bed and she was in it, hair yellow
as mustard weed. And the rampage begins.

Copyright © 2014 Ron Koertge All rights reserved
from The Ogre's Wife
Red Hen Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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