Arctic
Polar bear reclines
on the ground beneath me,
stretches out white and still
on his long & lovely spine,
in need of touch,
in want of connection.
Head tilted to the side,
eyes closed,
he reaches out his paw;
perches it loosely
on my upper arm,
holds it there—
holds it.
And I rub his white fur,
his jolly belly.
My soothing ministrations
undo him in time.
Softly, his gentle breathing,
and mine, not long elapsed,
sing in lonely unison.
field
starlings by the tens of thousands,
warmth of June
leash gone slack,
puppy’s curiosity held —
mine too —
murmuration
slowly builds
rising, dipping,
swooping & diving,
a unified
wingbeat heartbeat —
my small companion’s
and mine,
entranced
in one darkening field
Julie Allyn Johnson is a poet from the American Midwest who loves quirky, authentic poetry and sometimes writes by way of prompts though off-the-top-of-her-head inspiration is what normally puts pen to paper. She enjoys the company, camaraderie and accumulated wisdom of various poets and writers she's met since her publishing journey began in 2018. A Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee, her poetry can be found in Lowestoft Chronicle, Chestnut Review and other journals. Julie enjoys photography and writing the occasional haiku, some of which can be found on her blog, A Sawyer’s Daughter.
January House Literary Journal 
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