The bear cocks its head
And looks at them
He doesn’t trust the nuns
He doesn’t understand them
They pitch their tents
And make their fires
They strum guitars
Under sunhats
Braise meat they brought with them
And laugh at old jokes
With new punchlines
These are not your average nuns
The bear licks its paw
When the nuns approach
He lets them get closer to him
Than he has ever let any human get
But he can’t help himself
He has a curiosity about them
What are they doing here?
In the river, they wash their clothes
And their hair
When it rains, they huddle in the tent
The bear can see them
From his spot between the rocks
Their shadows tell stories
Of prayer and silence
But when the rain finishes
They emerge from the tent
As if they’ve rediscovered where they are
Again and again
When they get near the bear
He kicks back his upper lip
To give them a flash of tooth
So they won’t forget themselves
Or him
That doesn’t stop one of them
From getting a foot away
And smiling at him
Why are you smiling, he wonders
But then he drops his upper lip
And his guard as well
The nuns don’t rustle
He doesn’t rustle
There’s an understanding
That this could all change
And change suddenly
With no previous contract breached
Or agreement vacated
The little nun
Who lost her family in the war
Puts out her hand
The bear assembles an opinion of it
And then steps back, and away
He has disappointed her
And himself
But she doesn’t show it on her face
And he doesn’t eat her face
So it’s not the worst way
This all could have ended
When the nuns pack up and leave the next day
The bear watches them hike back through the forest
Until the light leaves the leaves
And the black and white
Mix with the brown and blush
And the rain starts again
Promising nothing will look the same
And everything will be different
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