like the way the bear rolls from his sleep
onto the gentle snowed in morning,
i saw him struggle against cramps
yawning taut
wound tight from a mother who
never sleeps herself
and in consideration of such a rare glimpse
he sensed me too,
we fall and roll into and out
from each other.
waking up from our instincts.
seeing we are not gods.
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This is great.
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