No snow yet this fall
but the gardens are just dirt now,
nothing left to eat except
invisible parsnips lurking below.
The snowbirds are fleeing South
to endless summer, Florida,
Arizona, Mexico, the Caribbean.
Some of us actually like winter.
It’s quiet and offers its own beauty,
chiaroscuro or blazing white.
The real birds flock to feeders,
competing with squirrels.
In summer, flowers give color;
in winter, birds. Flashes of red
on woodpecker heads, bellies.
Hens have chosen a gobbler
for winter protection. Living
dinosaurs strut up our drive.
The crows visit often now.
The coywolves hunt at night.
When summer people leave,
deer come out of hiding. Stag
on the road last morning, stately.
Hawks hunt overhead, mates’
razor cries cutting between them.
There are far more other animals
around than people. We hear
them and for us, it’s peaceful.
