Bearings

It was left looking,
But it's right. Piercing: a scavenger-spirit observed adrift
outside, out-with, free of subjugation.

--
Somewhere wild; temperate northern tundra, 1970s.
There appeared a milky grasshopper glint in her eye….
a torn, butterfly-wing pentangle.

Earth, she knew - smells and texture of roots, prey, berry-bounties.
Her claws had raked out it's provisions.
Life, surmised she, should overreach mere tolerable existence - potentially.
Rapt with curiosity, these were conceived cerebral adventures.

Not knowing her genes were Kodiak, Brown or Grizzly
but - there was a longing,
staring up into the night's celestial mysteries
- speckles of starlight sweet as honey.
Flying ivory kites in her eyes, ribbons wind-flailed and trailing down.
--
Having not been mesmerised by infamy, or neglected novelty
she wore the hue of a child's fantasy... a feelgood-marked russet
imagined as a 2-dimensional cut-out.

An ursine itinerant burning for travel - an infant-philosopher in practice.
Life should rise above meeting calorific intake, exceed larvae, grub and haunch of carrion… ad infinitum.
Improvising a trail towards meteoric light, stumbling upon a crater of artistry.

--

Bearings

Fire fell through the obsidian cosmic fabric
Within the dome hung the jet canopy, pinpricked brilliantly
wonder was transmitted... and received.
A radiative, esoteric leap into the Cartesian 3rd dimension.
Intrigue with set-plot. Randomly, universally, taking time to gravitate.

Wind-dispersed scent guidance fell out of,
failed to find
- favour. Became unmeasurable, this circus of navigation.

--
A pupil of deeply-attuned contemplation, reflecting cosmic underpinnings.
Stellar in intelligence,
One effervescent eye of a bear...
just looking right...but facing towards, left.