I am afraid of the lack of a lake to dive into when I am a loon, and afraid not to smell boughs of spruce, and to help build a nest when a mouse I become. I fear fiercely the missing of rustling in the bush when, a wolf, I am hunting my prey. And a doe, I'll not feel rays of sun on my back, and no forest floor on which to lay. When a bear, in no den, with no young nudging on my side – they're not hungry or frail. And an owl I'll become, but not have anyone to call out to behind my dark veil.