Written at Grizzly Bear Ranch in the Canadian Rockies, where my nephew hangs out, this poem links with painting 38 of the same title under 'Ball on a River' in Buy Prints Online
Relentless in your headlong rush
down snow-melt fir and bear-lapped creek,
you come stampeding through the night,
abusing sleep, usurping space
for thought, grabbing at nothing but
your self’s own elemental self.
I can’t read your rhythms or tell
your separate notes apart, yet
somewhere in my sentimental
soul your agony cry resounds
with the same old, same-old question:
Does fear or desire drive us on?
No answer comes above the roar
of your brute phenomenal force.