It might have  been the cold, that as the mercury dropped, so did the new spring grass,
It could have been the wind that blew forcefully and bent the golden long grass down,
It could have been the rain that fell and weighed the tan wheat grass to the ground,
It might have been the sun that burnt the roots turned the poor grass brown with drought,

It was not the cold, it was not the wind, it was not the rain, nor the drought it was a black bear sleeping, no doubt!

Sky so clear and as blue as I had ever seen and gently held the sun, while I went over a log,
I awoke it on a walk, as I was listening less and talking more with my dog,
The bear looked at us and without any fuss stood up, snorted and walked away,
My dog pulled tight on the leash, grumbled, growled that the bear would not play,

So, if you go out in the woods today, you better not go alone, they, the bears, are waking from their winter fog.