the bird and the bear

the bird and the bear had always been together,

but they would have found each other anyway, probably near water.

I think that is where we all could find one another, at the shoreline.

where the waves cycle and pull the sand smooth to start again.

the bird picks, chooses, and worries

while the bear bumps around with mittens and curiosity, waiting for the bird to bring back food.

And the constant pull of the bear on the bird feels like a ship on the water,

bobbing and needing and pushing and cuddling, all for the good of them both.

but today there was a seam in the shoreline, where they each had a little space.

and the bird and the bear found out, for a little time,

what breath looked like without the rhythm of the other.

a mother’s breath is a constant soundtrack, just like the waves in their inevitable circle.

we are always coming and leaving, but so rarely standing still.

today, the food was sent in portable containers,

and I delivered myself to the shore by memory and no one else.

I looked back behind me for the small bear, because never has she not been curled around me.

then I remembered that she is tracking new people in her world,

and for a tiny cycle I will try and be less of a bird and more of wide piece of sky.