"Bear" by Mary Oliver

This poem captures the feeling of hiking through the woods & suddenly realizing you are most certainly not alone...

It's not my track,
I say, seeing
the ball of the foot and the wide heel
and the naily, untrimmed
toes. And I say again,
for emphasis,

to no one but myself, since no one is
with me. This is
not my track, and this is an extremely
large foot, I wonder
how large a body must be to make
such a track, I am beginning to make

bad jokes. I have read probably
a hundred narratives where someone saw
just what I am seeing. Various things
happened next. A fairly long list, I won't

go into it. But not one of them told
what happened next -- I mean, before whatever happens--

how the distances light up, how the clouds
are the most lovely shapes you have ever ever seen, how

the wild flowers at your feet begin distilling a fragrance
different, and sweeter, than any you ever ever
stood upon before--how

every leaf on the whole mountain is aflutter.