When a Black Bear Crossed My Path

When a black bear crossed my path I began to cry with joy.  It is okay that I am the only one who knows that I’m not crazy.  I see my reflection in this empty , ongoing wild; lush and barren all together  and made for thoughtful hands.  The snow is warm.  And the woods are unforgiving in order to take care of me.   They are just alive with hard people; One there and one there.  The hard people are whole people. Their fixed creases have been patient with everything difficult.  And they huddle together in solitude with nowhere to run but into their own arms.  I don’t want to move to the city.  I am afraid that the lights will begin to comfort me.