Koluskap and the Greedy Bears
Koluskap taught the bears to fish, to share,
Most learned to be both strong and kind.
Yet some grew too fat as greedy bears,
Their hunger left them blind.
So Koluskap swapped their shadows round;
The greedy ones grew thin and spare,
They lost their teeth, their fur, their claw,
And walked as humans without flair.
They could not wade the brook to fish,
They wept for what their paws had been;
Koluskap saw their sorrow and empty dish,
he took a reed for rod, long grass for line, then—
He showed them how the hook should bend,
How patience brings the silver prize;
He taught them to weave nets and mend,
And how to navigate the river’s size.
Some kept the lesson, some forgot,
But those who learned shared food and song;
Yet some, greedy still, each other fought,
determined to take what didn’t belong.
So Koluskap toppled trees in lots,
and exiled their reckless pride;
They tied reeds to the logs with knots
and sailed ‘way on the morning tide.

Leave a comment