"A thing of beauty is a joy forever" - John Keats

	The Bear's Lair five toes meant one thing. he was near. I followed his tracks. passed a dead buck. probably taken down by a bullet. I secured my handgun and my rifle. I must get the jump on him. I tip-toed creekside. then, suddenly, on the other bank, I heard an air-shaking growl. my whiskey mouth mumbled. his jaw opened wide, his body full of wanton hunger. I grimaced.  he'd be a trophy if I could take him. he rose on his hind legs. I swallowed twice. cocked my gun. but he was fast. me clumsy. he crossed back and grabbed me. I hung in his teeth like a toy. this is it. my last act. the headlines will read eaten by a bear. but no, the ordeal continued. he dragged me through the gurgling stream into bushes and across beds of rocks. bruised me bad. when we reached the beast's den, I feared I'd be dinner. I saw mama bear and her growing cubs. they motioned back and forth with their paws. I understood. they said I'd make a great rug.		Wahkeena Falls (Beautiful Woman in Yakima Native Language) bright, white and sassy, she hops rocks, dives beneath downed trees. I catch her furious spray, fabulous lines, and gypsy soft air. she eases through me. has a beat. her regal song seeks my attention. her crazy face dances with old labor, thousands of years of cold cries. they tickle my lips as I watch her trump out to sea. her bowl fluffs up. whirls like a hot pot. I hurry not. she can't be still. nor can I. she shivers, licks the air. roars with her bare feet. yet she brings peace with her swift voice. a point of order to my thoughts and my soulful wanderings. tourists come. shoot photos. open umbrellas. she is loud. upon leaving, I always thank her. in winter her lone body rips out a rhapsodic roar. she's the queen, the air of beauty. spurious wind gusts bend her legs, twist her at her core. she hisses and howls yet her droplets touch your face like soft winter kisses. I come each week with the satisfaction of knowing she is never somewhere else.