The dampness woke him. <br />He stretched into a furry thing <br />which could not be made out <br />here in the darkness of the cave. <br /> <br />Went back to sleep on pointed rocks, <br />with bats a-coming and a-going, <br />and dreams of her, at home in bed <br />she was no hunter, after all, no way. <br /> <br />Her hair so soft, coarse curls aplenty, <br />he scratched and stroked with care. <br />It was a miracle that hibernation <br />was on the mind of that brown bear.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/brown-bear/
