Hibernating ’til spring

Winter slumber

 

Cuddled beneath flannel sheets 

hibernating through bright-moon hush. 

Torporing through owl dreams, 

sighing, shifting, in our snowbank den of quilts. 

Our cubs slumbering in distant ports, gone on 

  the restless wind

  the same wind blew us here,

due  north,

three decades past.

Six degrees this morning. 

Woodstove mute, 

  burned itself out in dreamless hours. 

Must we rise now?  Depart the blanket-den 

  to follow the spiral stairway down down 

  to spark the first match 

  unto daylight? 

Bear growls.

I dare not lift the covers and run.

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10 thoughts on “Hibernating ’til spring

  1. My favorite part – ‘our cubs slumbering in distant ports…” I do realize that their moving away is all part of the circle of life – just wish they didn’t go so far away!

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