Cleave my mind.

Do I keep my secret thoughts safe unto me
and quiet
or do I let them go? 

Cleave the bad away.  Cleave to the good to stay. 
The good cleaves to me.  I cleave the bad away. 

Walking down the street I may meet a bear. 
Seems we have those in Centennial.
Would I cleave to the bear?
Hugging its big neck?
Nestling into its thick fur coat?
I imagine it to be shiny 
but bristly 
to keep the elements away. 
The fur of the bear 
would cleave the rain away from its skin.

Anyway, I would cleave to the bear
if I were it’s young.
I would not want to be left in the city
with people who no longer understand nature. 
To be left with city folk who cleave
to their TVs
and computers and loud mowers
cleaving the peace of the morning
away from the gentle sleepers.

If I were a young bear
I would certainly make a point
of cleaving this union from myself. 
I would not want to be here. 
It is probably searching for its mother
having been torn away
by some unfortunate turn or event. 

Cleave to the good, cleave away the bad.

The bear searching for what it needs. 
Suburbanites cleaving to their possessions. 
The bear yearning to cleave to its mother. 
It’s only possession,
temporary at that. 

Baby David cleaved to me.
A first, babies always cry, 
but he smiled and hugged me. 
A sweet loving thing. 
I wonder if the bear
was missing that from his mom
when he cleaved himself, probably unwittingly,
from his mother’s side. 

Now he wants it back. 
Just like the suburbanites
who cleave to their things
thinking it’s the things
not the loved ones
who are important,
who make a difference,
the ones who care and love. 

Things can’t love and care,
only people,
and mother bears.

Author’s Note.
     This is just another practice piece, this time from Making Room to Write by Bonnie Goldberg.   It is the first exercise called Diving In.  Choose one word from those listed.  I chose….cleave.  Bear was also on the list and entered the exercise because of the baby black bear siting in my neighborhood this past weekend. You start by writing the word and not stopping until you reach your end point.
     I enjoy these exercises. I never know where my brain is taking me.  It was a nice journey while I sit here nursing a bad back.  I did not edit while writing and just went back after I was finished a put it into a poetic form and fixed the spelling.
     I hope the baby bear finds its way home.