They say in truth
a white bear’s fur
is not white by itself
but steals its color
scattering reflected light,
the same as snow, as ice.
Pristine magnificence of polar bear
reclining cumbrous on the caps,
fishing deftly from the floes,
lies in fur’s transparent cores.
Then eye’s echo,
persistent white noise,
creates what seems pure form.
The substance of it is
accepting emptiness
as being filled.

–first appeared in Avocet