SNOW COMING DOWN THE MOUNTAIN
the bear carries her bulk
on human hands
her snout long, coat sleek
eyes attentive within and without
we both ate huckleberries
she didn’t flinch when I fell into the creek
could I have a life as a blue whale
could my soul grow an elephant-sized tongue
ocean yawns
cities before the city surface
she walks in the sun
steam rises as frost melts
could I slide my fingers
under her guard hairs, touch soft wool
in the back of my mind
a halo of her fur
beneath the city, lost creek beds
the snow’s butterflies dance
Jane Munro’s sixth poetry collection Blue Sonoma (Brick Books) won the 2015 Griffin Poetry Prize. Her previous books include Active Pass, Point No Point, and Grief Notes & Animal Dreams. She is a member of the collaborative poetry group Yoko’s Dogs, who have published Whisk and Rhinoceros. This poem is from Glass Float (Brick Books, forthcoming 2020).




