Who will find me
hidden away in the warmth
of this dark winter cave?
Dreams to be dreamt,
visions to be honored,
the slow eating of fat
and the quiet heartbeat.

When the first salmon toil
over rock bedded streams,
when snow falls from the full
laden branches of evergreen,
when sun finds its way
along the great arc north,
then I will stretch and uncurl
from this lightless comfort,
and sing once more my hunger.

 

Photograph by John Shaw

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

11 Responses

  1. Very lovely bear energy conjured up by this poem. Tomorrow I abscond to NZ for some summer weather! I have your book down there, which my wife read and loved but I never got to last year. Cheers!

  2. In retirement from the busy human world, it is a joy to sleep 10,11 hours in deep slumber. But…wait! Will there be a Spring –as we have known it–be there waiting to present a new season to me? Come what may…

  3. Yes Don – there is quiet joy and lightless comfort known in this part of the rhythm of the cycles – and, by reason of your poem I am keenly reminded that I am not all alone here in the dark. We are in this great womb together.

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