Poem Hunter
Brown Bear
(04 October 1943 / Germany)

Brown Bear

Poem By Herbert Nehrlich

The dampness woke him.
He stretched into a furry thing
which could not be made out
here in the darkness of the cave.

Went back to sleep on pointed rocks,
with bats a-coming and a-going,
and dreams of her, at home in bed
she was no hunter, after all, no way.

Her hair so soft, coarse curls aplenty,
he scratched and stroked with care.
It was a miracle that hibernation
was on the mind of that brown bear.

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Comments (3)

I thought it sounded 'cozy' in there...of course, only if he stayed sleeping! Very cute...I'm glad I found this one. Don't know how I missed it. sincerely, Mary
Animal instincts are strong this time of the year.....nice write.
The thought gives me the shivers, Herbert, but thank goodness it was winter! Great write. Sincerely Ernestine