Daily Diary, Day 824:
SON OF NOMAD BEAR
His song
wakens me from my full bellied sleep.
TEA TEA TEA
he cries.
Hot frosty words
in the dark igloo air,
rise in a sing song cry
of baby rage.
TEA
for the baby man
warm from his mother's side
TEA
for the hunter's son
TEA
for the brave hunter
fresh from a fruitless assault
upon his sleeping mother's breast.
--Joseph Locke