Bear At Yellowstone
I run out to see the joggers.
The prettiest one screams.
I am not scary! I think.
A mean old one is blaring a can that hurts my ears.
I run back into the thicket.
What is wrong with these two-leggers?
Do they not know I only want a bit of food?
Dang! Here comes that uniform guy with the badge.
The one that shot me in the butt and put a tag on me.
I crouch down low. Wishing he would go away.
He is ruining my visit with the next set of joggers.
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment