I pull free, the roots snapping at my ankles.
The grasses that shelter me fall off like old clothes cut away.
Stumbling, I try my new legs.
They are very wobbly at first, it makes me laugh.

I stumble, fall and rise again, because fallen trees die.
This first adventure away is thrilling, though I have not made it very far from where I started.
I smile as the warm sun redundantly dapples my coat.


I try further, further than the two small trees, further than the little hill.
I grow weary climbing it with my wobbly new legs.
I fall, but not on to hard ground.
Soft white breaks my fall.

I fall asleep in that warm white fur.




~Baum