The above is the end of the story – not much different than you would expect if anarchists and other emotives are in charge of a menagerie and scribed pages. Misattention, misadventure, and maybe frivolity and scorn for the written; some of it possibly wise, maybe ancient: forced sudden efforts. Just as a greater danger poked her nose into the blustery and brighter day.
Now on to the middle of the story.
Spring cleaning is much in order and some of the boxes of writs (once compelling but now needing reexamination in the light of day) were removed from the barn and spread upon the grass. The dusting off, examining for value, repackaging and restorage incurred frivolous debunking by one of the enfant terribles who decided a paper airforce would be a fun way to distribute the ideas, during a brief calm.
Winds habitually haunt the prairie and sweep abruptly across the reviving grass, for this the distracted spring-cleaners were ill-prepared. What had not been proximate, became a dynamic presence.
Now…remember the bear? This brings up the beginning of the story.
The bear is here because We are sympathetic to circuses with animals (not welcome in most places), and have made space available. The so-called Decider-In-Chief has a childish infatuation with teddy bears and left the cage of the bear unlatched (the bear arrived in hibernation). But a new season is also arriving here on the prairie and with it the friskiness of animals (two and four legged). And so a she-bear, a hungry she-bear, roamed.
How are we frightened, and by what, affects decisions; panic being the most common. After that “decision” the bear happily rummages our garbage (you will just have to imagine).
Now, a coda for the story…how does one put a she-bear back in her cage, or respect our gifted scribbles? With a trail of sweet words, candy and honey, flowers?