Surprise! It’s poetry.
I do attempt to pretend I can do it on occasion.
This is the only bit of poetry I’ve written that I like, though.
A ray of sunlight through shedding trees
Draws rainbows in miniature on his back,
As the droplets of mist from the river
Cling desperately to his fur.
He trundles slowly through fallen leaves
And clenches his jaw to hold his meal.
He is older than his kin, but he is still
Young compared to the forest.
Saplings part as he treks to his home,
Smaller creatures scatter and hide.
He is much too old to give them chase,
Though he wishes he had the time.
The sky is grey and drowns the warmth
The sun would normally provide.
His bones ache and protest with his gait,
But he moves ever forward.
The fish in his deadly grip twitches
In a silent plea to be released back,
But the elder bear finishes the dance for him
With a brutal, final crunch.
He can see his den ahead of him now,
Its maw threatening more than in the past.
He tenses because he knows that this
Will be his final meal.
Twilight comes and he still sits
Staring blind out the mouth of the cave.
His final meal sits uneaten, as he welcomes
A long and lustrous winter.