In darkening days

when pulse slows,

a great shaggy bear

fattened on berries, and cranky,

lumbers to sniff out a cave in the rocks,

the warmth of forgetfulness, deep sleep.
Who would urge it to spring

back into sharp light and wind,

to lick only snowflakes swirling the snout,

to skid along ice

even great claws cannot grip

before time’s twist in the belly

hungers for a rebirth?
Some too wrap around ourselves

a thickening memory,

lie down, inhale minutes passing

fed up with foraging, fighting, or fleeing

and fill a hollow with rest

mindless, simply to be.