around me
the world prepares
for sleeping
beneath a blanket of snow.
the winged ones,
the osprey, the geese, have flown --
looking for open water
and the sun.
the bears, the rabbits
have denned
beneath the roots
of trees.
while above
the squirrels,
fat and sleek
lounge upon their
hoarded wealth.
i wander
the woods,
hearing the leaves
crunch beneath my feet,
admiring
the colour
the glorious colours
of dying leaves,
smelling
the healthy decay
as the leaves return
to the soil.
i squirrel these things
away,
in memory,
hoarded wealth
against the time
i make my bed
beneath the loam
and, under the snow,
sleep.
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