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In fall, bears search the woodland boles
for nuts to scoop out by the pawful
From stores piled up in squirrel holes.
Bears like it, squirrels think it's awful.

In sugarbush in spring thin bruins
awakened from their winter's nap
turn plastic tubes to ragged ruins
in search of tasty maple sap.

On summer nights bears go through trash.
I hear them up and down the road.
They tip cans over with a crash.
But bears don't come to my abode.

Ignored by bears? That's kind of rough.
My garbage isn't good enough.