The Time She Holds

She leans over her cub in the quiet hush of the wild, a shadow of strength wrapped in soft summer light. Her breath drifts across his small frame like a blessing spoken in a language older than the mountains. For a mother grizzly, time is a brief and precious thing. Only a few short seasons to teach him where the berries hide beneath the thickets, how to read the wind and watch for danger, how to stand firm when the world grows bigger than his courage. She knows he will not stay small for long. One day, he will walk these hills alone, a wanderer shaped by the lessons she pressed gently, patiently, into the earth beneath his paws. But for now, he lingers in the safe circle of her presence, and she bends toward him as if trying to memorize every heartbeat, every breath, every fleeting moment of being his shelter. In this tender space between what is held and what must someday be released. In this wild moment, she senses what is to come. And a mother’s love becomes its own kind of light; bright, fierce, and quietly eternal. Captured in Yellowstone National Park Early summer, 2024 Canon EOS R5 Mirrorless Camera Canon EF 400mm f/2.8L IS II USM Lens 1/640 sec f/5.6 400 mm ISO 400