Into the mossy woods I creep,
Where daylight flees and shadows leap.
Who knows what creatures slink and prowl,
Seen only by the hooting owl?
What’s this I hear? A swishing sound!
I freeze. I feel my heartbeat pound.
Although this seems a foolish stunt,
I must be brave: I’m on the hunt.
The prey I seek’s a savage fright
With claws that gash and fangs that bite.
It’s ten feet long with sleek white hair.
You guessed it: it’s the polar bear.
What’s that you say? That I must go
To tracts of arctic sea and snow?
If I did that, then don’t you see,
This cunning beast might hunt for me!
Ed Morris, 2019
This page copyright © 2019 Edward A. Morris. Created January 6, 2019. Last updated January 7, 2019.
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