The Polar bear
I noticed him.
I marked his faulty joy.
At a tip
of fake the spring,
He leaps,
He jumps.
Assuming fun,
Wasting holy times.
Playing tip and run,
Tossing worthless toys.
Alaskan Arctic fur,
Lapsing pale brown.
I pondered,
How delightful
he was a sand boy?
Roaming tundra,
Whiffing icy breezes,
Scenting enduring pines.
Charged
with mother calving grounds
of wolverines.
Arctic foxes, caribou herds
And Porcupines.
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| oldmedina | 
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