with teeth

They gather in the woods
Cult-like in their
Desire to blend in
With the foreground scenery

Following their instincts
Rubbing sticks together
A magic ritual with
Recursive bow

Writing sonnets

To sweethearts back home

William tells about the apples

& The gravity of the situation

Stringing along cans

Praying Prometheus bestows
Warm welcomes
And well wishes

Blessed are the peacekeepers
The banner reads
Staked deeply in the ground
Pitching tents close by the fire

Black bears hunting snickers bars
Bags hung high in the trees
Out of sight; abruptly in mind
Shot to the heart in shock
Face to face with curiousness
Departure sanctioned by grace

Packing up at dawn
They collect their fares
Ensuring the bears have nothing
But footsteps to feast on
And the grounds
Are kept better

Than upon arrival

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