Reigning Kings

Where the frigid waters of Shelikof Straight
meet a place of muted palettes in shades of gray,
icy winds sweep across barren, rugged terrain.
Whispering breaths spatter drops that are not quite rain.

In the distance, hoary mountains peak and crest,
their sharklike teeth protruding through veils of clouds, stand sentient.
Rivers and streams form from fading summer's snowmelt
crisscrossing what feels like a land lifeless, silent.

Emerging from blue- black shadows
into natal rivers, a feverish red tide flows,
with an internal imperative to return home
with only death's embrace as a welcome.

Along these watery byways and highways,
gulls laugh while gulping gore from fishy graves.
Eagles, sailing swiftly, score the day's catch.
I watch entranced as their prey is dispatched.

In this desolate place, what is the allure-
Then, onto center stage explodes shaggy fur.
Tender, twining tendrils of fear take root,
around my spine tingling, mingling its tiny shoots.

Ursus arctos horribilus, Brown Bear, Grizzly.
These kings kill the kings of the river with ease.
Silvery pink scales plucked from rippling shallows turned red.
Muzzles and claws sanguine from rendered flesh.

Rapacious fishers good and bad, cubs with mother bears, fighting bears, lazy bears-
all of them hungry bears.
They come by the score, pace the shore, without pity.
Strength, speed, size: Paragons of ferocity.

I forget the cold and the spitting wet.
This place no longer feels so desolate.
When the salmon run is done, I will be on my way.
There will be danger if I stay.