He was created to survive brutal habitat.
Winter sweeps upon Begundy,
Paints his warrior face.
Snow blankets his shaggy garment.
Black onyx eyes smolder.
Instinct dictates his every move.
An unwise traveler inches toward him,
Hoping he might capture images.
What is it that he covets?
Is it proof of his prowess,
Connective ness with something mighty?
Begundy stands a boulder,
This rock can explode at thirty-five miles per hour.
Still the photographer advances,
He does not see the outrage behind Begundy’s eyes.
Who has superior intelligence?
Seething in anger, Begundy steps out of his trance.
Do you wish to do battle?
Look at my massive torso, my head thick of bone.
How will you defend against my thunder?
I will hook you, toss you in a whirlwind.
Go now and I will spare you.
I must move snow, uncover meal of grass.
The gnaw of hunger will subside, sleep will come
After a chew and meditation.
Thomas J. Glasco