White Picket... | Caroline Stewart

THE YEAR THEY CAME

Shea Castleman Weeks and weeks of preparation Have all come to this day, the day they came. Away from the predators, Away from bad weather. The family forms like a cloud, uncertain at first But later joined together, Ready to take on the world Ready to pass the generation onto the next All of the uncertainty vanished.

Their first Spring; The birds are chippering, Welcoming the cubs into the beauty of Spring. The smell of the green grass, inhabited by little drops of mildew and the creatures of the earth. To see the colors of the rainbow, splashed across the earth like splatter paint. To feel the exciting complexity of new life. To taste the freshly bloomed fruit’s sweetness that explodes in your mouth. To hear the morning birds, waking up the world with their music.

Their first Summer; The bumblebees flap their wings wildly, bursting with excitement to show the cubs around summer. Smell the familiar waft of a flower, freshly bloomed. Colors bursting at the seams. Watch the glows of the lightning bugs, clicking on and off like times on life! Feel the rays of the burning, hot sun, beaming down and illuminating the whole earth. Taste the gust of happiness in the air, the animals run around, unaware of the vulnerability of their existences… Hear the insects humming in the dead of night, their voices like a gentle tap of a maraca, the best lullaby in the world. Their first Fall; The fox gestures to the cubs to follow him in his journey towards fall. To smell the crisp autumn chshcshchsch of the freshly turned leaves. To see the colors; red, yellow, orange lazily idling off the bare trees. Feel the crunch of the pine cones laying on the ground under their feet. Savor the taste the millions of food served on the day of thanks. Hear the gusts of wind, creating a tornado of colors, leaves, leaving a flurry of colors in its path.

Their first winter; The polar bears, snow leopards and penguins all show up as the cubs dive into their first winter, ready to show the cubs the harsh, gentle climate of winter. Smell the aroma of the smoke from the fire, lingering in the air. See the white, the streets and mountains and roofs and trees covered in the soft, light snow. Feel the brisk breeze and harsh winds cutting at your face. Taste the snowflakes on your tongue and taste the joy in the atmosphere, the holiday happiness. Hear nothing, hear the silent of winter, the rare peace and silent of winter.

And you, what do you notice in the Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter? Nothing is my guess. But what do these cubs notice? Everything is my guess.