Up On the Polar Ice

Up on the polar ice,

A family looms.

Their beautiful snowy coats

Glistening

In the small sunlight left.

Soon the icy winter

Will pull through.

 

The cubs snuggle

Against their mother,

Huge in comparison

To their miniscule bodies.

 

Her coat—

Now a dirty blonde

Heavy, cold, and wet

Is specked with tiny dirt flecks.

 

Adorable balls of fur,

Newborns,

Blend in with the snow.

Their pure white coats

Blinding in the sun.

 

Mother is working

Slowly, tiredly

It is almost wintertime.

The two cubs,

Curious,

Peek from behind

Her furry legs,

Twice their size.

A gaping, cozy hole

Awaits their probing eyes.

The den is done.

 

With a soft purr,

She urges them,

Patiently,

Into their new home.

Only for the long winter

She promises.

She collapses,

Exhaustedly,

With a drawn out grunt.

The cubs glance,

Concerned

But she assures them

All is well.

 

They sniff around

But finding nothing

Worth their interest

Progress to lay

Quietly at their soft

Mother’s side

And slowly fall

Into deep sleep

That is hibernation,

Up on the polar ice.

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