Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Bare, Dry Woods

The snow of winter has melted away, 
but spring has not arrived and the air is still crisp. 

The woods are brown and bare; 
no hint of green. 

A hawk soars over the trees scanning the ground. 

Three deer wander up the valley by the creek; 
two are fawns, nibbling at something 
that I can’t see. 

A white-eared squirrel stuffs dry leaves in its mouth, 
carries them up the trunk of a hollow tree, 
and disappears inside to make a nest. 

At dusk, a young raccoon ambles by, 
not minding that I watch.


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