Whenever children laugh,
stories stir within the tiny green she bear
peeking out from the grass
at the base of the ginkgo tree.
Here, in Pandora Park.

Years past, her hard plastic body
shielded her from the onslaught
of angry green army men—
bayonets poised,
rifles aimed.
Rising up,
the she bear lumbered toward them.
She bellowed outrage as
bullets bounced off her hard plastic shell
and bayonet blades broke.
Chunks of army men litter
her hibernation’s wake.

These days, the she bear sits
camouflaged by grass,
there beneath the ginkgo tree.
Sometimes, she pictures the plastic parts of army men
bulldozed into the baseball diamond
on the other side of Riley Creek.

Those were the days.

Wistful, the she bear waits.

Then, as spring’s first butterflies flutter,
and turtles rise from the muck of Riley Creek,
a child’s hand surrounds the she bear
and whispers fill her ears.

Laughter bubbles through promises
the child can’t wait to keep.
They arrive at Barbie’s Dream House
just in time for tea.

Brenda Warren 2017

10 thoughts on “Fortune

  1. Sounds like you’ve found a bear/dragon, or a dragon/bear. Bears are a symbol of introspection, knowing the value of going inside to nurture ones dreams. Like this one a lot. Mind if I swipe a line?



    • Please do, Elizabeth. Thanks for your talk of bears. A she bear pops up in my poetry every now and then. She feels safe to me, yet separate. It’s interesting as my fear of Grizzly bears has kept me from enjoying some of Montana’s beautiful mountain trails.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Have you ever just closed your eyes and asked her what her name is? You asked me once, about my Personal Mythology, that’s how it began. Names are often words, so they are often definitions of purpose and meaning. And the fact that she has been there more than once is important. Perhaps she comes to teach you how to dream while you are still awake? Email me and I’ll tell you more.



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