It happened
at the end of March
And
finished with a mighty crunch
The
drowning of many thousand bears
And if you
stood within a hundred miles
You might
hear something from the wild
And prick
your ears like something foul
It took
days and days and days and days
Their heavy
coats and tasseled fur
And when
time had passed in slow repose
Their
carcasses indefinable and decomposed
They fed
the earth with surreptitious zeal
Their
collective wrath would be revealed
It wasn’t
until three years had passed
Their image
iconic and a reminder of
The
ignorance that hadn’t budged
The Arctic
White and Ursine Sprite
Worked on
potions throughout the night
With tooth
of wolf and tail of seal
He crushed
and mixed the pasty meal
At last the
magical dough rose higher
And he
placed it over the open fire
It bubbled
and hissed and sighed and wheezed
Until all
animation seized
The Sprite
cradled the cake in his wiry arms
You could
hear him whisper something warm
An eerie
melody mixed with a lamenting cry
Some
ancient enchanting lullaby
He off-ed his rugged moccasins
Revealing corkscrewed toe-like limbs
And bore them through the icy ground
Offering the cake to the depths beyond
The next morning came like a slap in the face
The day would be filled with our disgrace
As it would every three years
And eventually be penned the ‘Ursine Fear’
The spell that had been cast succeeded
And into water the souls retreated
The vengeance came without a notice
And water was the bear’s new hostess
And what will follow may seem implausible
But we all know that nothing’s impossible
Where water lived and flowed and dripped
A darkness lurked and skulked and sipped
The events that unfold in no particular succession
Are true accounts or near impressions
Of what some people may have witnessed
They may appear grisly, startling and twisted
A rainy day, buckets to say the least
And puddles appeared as large as the beasts
That resided in the mirrored fluid
Who could have guessed what had ensued
Claws came crashing through the miniature tarns
The hirsute trunks and stiffened arms
Transporting them to the ‘other side’
In baths and sinks and old skating rinks
Where water ruled and things could sink
From seas and lochs and ponds and streams
One could hear the shrieks and screams
The bears return was no good tiding
In every droplet they were hiding
And if you looked in the waters’ eye
You would see the bear alive with ire
You would not have a second chance
Even if you looked
askance
They’d take you in a giant hug
And flatten you into a rug
No remorse was ever given
To the elderly, the sick, the children
In droves the bears would seek revenge
And as quickly as it began it ended
Thousands of bodies taken by force
An antithesis of Nature’s course
And every three years forever more
The Bear would return to settle the score
By: Antoine Boissonneault
As we near
World Environmental Day I wanted to share a poem written by my wildly talented brother Antoine which highlights the
polar bear, a
Beautiful Creature that most of us will never see in their natural habitat.