When the sun called me to worship
I stood alone near the oak tree
legs, roots reaching down
leaves, skin soaking in sustenance
and relished what was soft
what was warm
Then I saw the ominous beauty —
the momentary mustard glow
foretelling the icy wind
the dark womb-cave
the omen that begins the end,
inviting the inward journey
as body moves into stillness
silence surrounds and spirit rises
into a deep remembering:
Dreams of Bear.
Poem by Roxanne E. Bogart.
Roxanne E. Bogart is a wildlife biologist and writer, whose poems have appeared in The Tiny Seed Literary Journal, The Silkworm, and Poetry Quarterly. She is a member of the Straw Dog Writers Guild, the Academy of American Poets, and the Florence Poets Society, and lives in Amherst, MA. roxannebogart.com.