18 April 2009

p.a.d. - day four

for Nathan

More than nine

red cloudberries

picked with honey-paws,

I prize you, Bear.

Born of the starry spoon,

keeper of the ancient sea,

your towering shape swabbed

on granite cliffs.

From an apple tree

you fell into my basket, Bear,

and never has such warm woolen awkwardness

swathed such an iron heart.

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