Ursa Minor

Hunger is the predator
That preys upon the black bear.
Up ahead a car is parked
In the middle of the road,
A zoom lens through the window.
A sleek, medium-sized bear
Forages in the margin,

Close enough to paw the lens
But not even looking up,
So unlike the countless deer
That bound in all directions
At each vehicle's approach.
Methodical as it seems,
This calm bear is in full flight.

Winter is ahead of it,
And winter is just behind.
Eat enough, it may survive
To eat again next summer.
Otherwise it will be gnawed
To slow death from the inside.
For now it ignores the lens,

Indigestible nuisance,
Worthless as the purring car,
Stones in the Way of the bear
Unless it smells food in there.
Mind is nose is tongue, are one.
Thus the bear's enlightenment:
Emptiness is never done.