Of Long, White Days

In the shade, then sun, then shade.
I move less than both of them.

Light glares at me from the stream.
Heat. Strength. Force. Fire. The first thing

To teach us pain is too much
Of a good thing, then it’s gone,

And that’s pain. I’m the small bear.
I’m at pains to make my life

Just right. The lost thief will come
And break in my house, and eat

My meal, and sleep in my bed,
And will find it all just right.

But, like most tales, it will fail
At the end. I won’t come home.

I will stay here on my rock
All night. You can have the bed.