Ann Keiffer

Sierra Alarm

In the High Sierras, it is the middle of winter,
but black bears are lumbering out of their dens,
awakened by heat, too hot to sleep. In January
their bear world should be biting, their fat,
furred bear bodies dormant, buried deep in
hibernation sleep beneath mountains of ice
and silent snow. In February, still inside their
dens and deep asleep, female bears should be
giving birth to their cubs, nurturing them for thirty
weeks until the snow melts. But this January,
what little snow there was is already gone. The
bears are too hot; they’re leaving their dens,
their cubs not yet born…while we humans are
asleep, dormant, hibernating from the implications.

Ann Keiffer


About Ann

I am interested in the strange beauty of brokenness, in transforming possibility in difficult times, in how we heal even when we can’t get better, in the alchemy of surrender, in the interplay of light and shadow, in the bounty of everyday wonders, in the gift of laughter…and writing about it, all and everything.

Recent Poems

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