Issue Thirty - Summer 2017

Instinct

By Lowell Jaeger

Mounds of black scat on the trail.
Rotted hemlock clawed and scattered.
A branch snaps. Forest silence shattered
by rocks knocked loose cliff-side, hail
of scree. Even birds and blackflies freeze
for what’s to come. I clap my trembling hands,
step forward slowly, scan side to side
for movement, shadows, brush enough to hide
a great brown hump of griz. He sees
with his nose, and god forbid his gaze lands
on me. Hairs on the back of my neck rise
by instinct I can’t name. I watch for bear;
I watch my back. Whistle to avoid surprise.
Swallow hard. My heartbeat knows he’s there.

Copyright Jaeger 2017

Lowell Jaeger (Montana Poet Laureate 2017-2019) is author of eight collection of poems, most recently Earth-blood & Star-shine (Shabda Press in 2016). He is the recipient of fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and the Montana Arts Council and winner of the Grolier Poetry Peace Prize. Most recently Jaeger was awarded the Montana Governor’s Humanities Award for his work in promoting thoughtful civic discourse.

All work by