Polar Sunrise

Small pastel flames kindled in icy waves,
in rough ice, in mud-clotted
polar bear pelt, in aqua and amethyst-
shadowed ice crevices--

this tinge of warmth in a frigid place,
unsafe to human touch or taste,
parallels the ascent from a clutch
of glaucous shadows to massive paws,
legs and haunch to a neck
as thick and shaggy as an oak bole,

which turns almost to meet our eyes
its fine point of sentience,

the point from which this fierce land
knows itself to be,
knows we are here,
knows we know.

Dean Blehert

Last Updated: October 6, 2002