the bear

Nestled in, safe and warm against the chill air

And sitting as one is wont to sit, in a deep and friendly chair

Sat the bear, thinking, but not deep in it.

Belly filled to that pleasant place where things do not feel out of sorts.

He is not pondering a meal, just reveling in the aftertaste, savory, wanting no more.

And the Bear thinks.  Thinks of his day, of his time,

Thinks of what tomorrow may pile upon his mind,

Thinks of the tedious chore of making up the rhymes

That all flow down together and paint the canvas, life.

 And the bear thinks of her and his contented smile widens perceptively,

He leans back and lets his breath pass his teeth expectantly,

Picturing times and moments, some past, some he hopes to be,

And chuckles and speaks aloud, though no one is listening.

Nestled in, safe and warm against the chill air

And sitting as one is wont to sit, in a deep and friendly chair

Sat the bear, thinking. … but not deep in it.