BEARS
Think of pink salmon caught in pools,
plucked from water, tossed to air,
the catch stacked rainbow‑fired.
Winter now:
unsnubbable, lumbering overcoats
closeted, laid to rest;
seeking power in hibernation
till sun from summit melts frosty dark:
fresh heartbeats forged in forest’s night.
Think alchemy:
prime matter moved safely in flask or jar.
Think circus stars:
The Great Bear leads the Lesser,
dancing to the trainer’s whip,
tumbling from their pedestals.
Secure behind bars,
think fallen stars.
rogermoorepoet 
Love the last two lines. Also the colour of the salmon.
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It’s a golden oldie, Jane. Goes back to the seventies. That’s a long time ago!
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It is so true. I’m afraid, every time I go down the stairs, but there’s no other way. A battle every time. – Margaret
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Thanks for the visit and the comment, Margaret. I hope all continues well.
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Sorry, this was supposed to be under the Triumphs poem!
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I gathered that, Margaret, so no problem at all. I do feel so very good about such tiny little things nowadays. Getting up some mornings feels like a gold medal!
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