"March," by James Wright

 

A bear under the snow

Turns over to yawn.

It's been a long, hard rest.

Once, as she lay asleep, her cubs fell

Out of her hair,

And she did not know them.

It's hard to breathe

In a tight grave:

So she roars,

And the roof breaks.

Dark rivers and leaves

Pour down.

When the wind opens its doors

In its own good time,

The cubs follow that relaxed and beautiful woman

Outside to the unfamiliar cities

Of moss.

"March" by James Wright, from Above the River: The Collected Poems.

Wesleyan University Press, 1992.