Friday, copper line dead. No dial tone. In car, search for use of phone.
Connect with carrier, who insisted, Trouble is inside.
Will schedule lineman for late next week.
Disconnect’s definitely outside, I responded.
At-risk Elder requests quicker response.
I’ll check with my supervisor. ~ Click.
Early Saturday, I heard technician’s fully equipped van scattering driveway stones.
Lengthy frustrating attempts to resurrect connection, proceeded.
No documentation available where black box was installed years ago.
Volunteered to direct him, eight hundred thirteen yards to leased access pole.
Pulled myself up to passenger seat, cluttered with food containers, soda cans, invoices.
He rounded the hairpin turn curve—abruptly slammed on brakes.
Excitedly jumped from van. Sprinted up steep incline.
Quickly hobbling behind, I also saw shredded black box.
Scratch marks ascended electric pole, tenaciously displaying clumps of black fur.
~ I see ~
Black bear, scouting, making ascent, ears flooded with buzzing copper wires,
Taste buds quivering, anticipating assurance of black box overflowing with honey,
Just waiting for his very hungry empty belly.