Flawless
In the next valley over, a bear
sleeps beneath the floorboards. Any mother
might see her tiny hairless cubs rooting for life
in the great furred landscape of her world
as a miracle
and who would argue? Few create anything more perfect
than the quaking innocents of small
beginnings. Still, the sun stretches in silent shadows
over the same valley, waning in silver
across the rotted, spotted snow. In visible dust
the bear breathes against the grain
spinning motes into flawless, golden sparks.
Just beautiful. Thank you for your compassionate observations, deep thought, and profound simplicity.
Thank you, Dave!