Eric Huff

There is a broad-shouldered bear that lives in me

put your hand against my chest and be still a moment. listen for the broad-shouldered bear

moving slowly though the tree line somewhere above me. the edges of evening pour down the

hillside until we feel the chill of turning around and heading back to the trailhead of my

childhood. let me ask the question to granite and evergreen, to dirt and moss: when will the clear

rivers of snowpack melt and bring me home again? who is it that is perched so high up in that

tree that their melody is a secret in god’s ear? here is my promise to you: my hands will unfold

like an early spring bloom and my eyes will be open to what is left of the night sky. I will

unbutton my shirt and let the lumbering brown bear free from my chest so she may stretch and

snort – so she may find a bit of peace. be still. do not be afraid.

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Eric Huff (he/him) is a public-school teacher living in the west metro area of the Twin Cities. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in publications such as 1913: A Journal of Forms, Rockvale Review, After/Thought, Molecule, Livina Press, and Action, Spectacle, among others. Instagram: @MrEricHuff