Wise Mountain Bear
sits down for a head scratch.
Adjusts his glasses,
paws at the page.
Methodically he enjoys
the rhythm of language.
His verse assembles itself
naturally as a child’s smile.
Ancient blood and receptive consciousness
weave, and sew
fine garments for the soul.
Hearth of wood and flame
twinkle in his eye.
Dance your dance of romance
and set his mind on fire.

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