*Nainika’s Note* Well, I don't know what this is. I tried a perspective I have never tried before, and I am not sure how well it worked, so let me know what you think!
The bear yawned and stretched, her mouth gaping wide to show her long canines. A long-honed instinct had woken her up for the first nudge of spring, and she had awoken to the sweet smell of flowers pushing through the frozen earth. All through the winter, the bear had slept on, her metabolism ticking over just enough to keep her alive. Periodically she rose in a sleepy trance to turn and adjust her body position before being tugged back into slumber. The fat reserves of the fall depleted, and her belly swelled up.
She had given birth to three cubs, all the same honey brown color as her, with threads of silver and gold weaving through their soft fur. Two perfect daughters and one sweet son. They had slept, tucked into her warm belly fur for the remainder of the winter, weaning when necessary. They were now awakening, their small muzzles gaping in big yawns.
As the days warmed, as their sunny reach grows longer, the ice queen's heart melted and her sister-spring was welcomed by the greenest entourage. Springtime came as music to the soul, as a lullaby to rock winter into her seasonal bed-chamber. Winter laid down her icy bouquet for the long sleep as spring waved in a sea of vivid blooms.
Hibernation had protected the bear through the worst of the winter chill, and it was time she ventured out of her home for the past six months to seek out food. The months had changed the view outside her den tremendously. Upon the forest floor lay the trees of yesteryear, fallen in storms long forgotten. The seasons had been harsh, stripping away the bark and outer layers yet rendering them all the more beautiful.
Though the winter was cherished, by the moment adored, from the sun-brightened icy-puddle to the fresh white-page snow, the first day of the spring was upon the platform, ticket punched. And so to the keen eye, to the one who cared to see, there were new buds upon old trees, there were new blooms born to a warming Earth.
It took a braveness to show the newly sprung green when all around was icy cold, yet upon this first day of spring, that was what the bulbs must do if their brightness was to light up the season. When the whispers of the wintertime had become too faint to hear, when the lullaby of the springtime echoed in sun-warmed ears, we had arrived at the first day of springtime.
The pines reached toward the golden rays of spring. Birdsong came in lulls and bursts, the silence and the singing working together as well as any improvised melody. The bear and her three cubs wandered upon the sunlit clearing, seeking the sweet fragrance of apples, pears, and plums. Upon the forest floor so woven with ancient tree roots came a light filtered by the bouquet of foliage above: softened, verdant, and freshly aromatic.
The bear sauntered along the pathway, curious in her relaxed way. She brought the consciousness of the forest with her, the intelligence nature has. Her cubs tumbled alongside her, their eyes taking in their new world. In the early light of the day, the bear’s fur was the color of seasoned acorns, and her eyes were both black and bright.
They wandered among the warming forest, scenting all sorts of woodland creatures running about. Amid the long green ears of the grasses were those of a rabbit family, partaking of their morning meal.
Deer picked their way through the woodland as if ancient spirits whispered the way directly to their souls. Nubs on the buck’s head told of antlers to come and grow as if in poetic salute to the trees. Birds in flight give their colors to the sky and, yet leave it as a fresh canvas, every part of the onwards moment.
The forest animals had their shy way, yet the tree bark told tales of bears hunting for grubs. In the gay canopy of foliage was the song of so many birds, a medley of diversity, the feathered souls of creation's song. On the earth are the prints of their feet, a story told in the mud of their gentle ambling days.
The bear knew the way to the blackberry bushes that would grow ripe as the coming months washed over them. She led her cubs to the brook that shimmered through the trees. After days of rain-washed streets, the brooks chatter in the hills, mini-rivers creating mini-gorges without a concept of scale.
Around them, the greenery drank, leaves became boats, and their sound upon the rocks sang with steady confidence. It was the percussion to the chorus of the birds. The thirsty family plunged their muzzles into the crisp, clean water and drink.
From there, they went to the blackberry clearing and plucked the ripe succulent berries off the branch. Muzzles dripping in juice, they lay there, satiated. The bear was a model of patience with her cubs as they played. They tumbled over her as if she were a playground. They enjoyed both the warmth of the sunlight and their mother. Blooms grew in newly fragranced air, the sweet petals that fluttered reflected by the honeyed-sweetness within.
And this is how they passed the day, in blissful serenity, with the sound of water and birds. Far away from the clocks that ticked and the cars that scurried. The foliage of the vines came as if it were nature's pen, ready to unfold into the light of day. The bear knew that the year would be a good one. The scent of the flowers blooming on the vines and the succulent berries ripening on their branches invited the warm feelings of a year that would grow her cubs into the strong bears they gained their genes from.
And if anyone came between her and her cubs? Well, then they’d get what they deserved. And so, the bear closed her eyes and laid her head down on the soft green grass, content to let the sun warm her pelt, and her cubs to play around her.