In the grove of oak trees
Squirrels scurry among acorns
Gathering food against winter
I watch from my patch of leaves
Soaking up the last warmth of fall

Winter is tripping in
With a splatter of scarlet
Yellow and dampled purple
A month and trees will be bare
Stripped and stark in winter light
A time for sweaters by day
And quilts by night

Burrowing under warm covers
Dreaming of spring days to come
Greening of sycamore,oak and maple
Mountains and hollows unfolding
Chirps of wrens,chickadees and robins
The urgent call of the turtle

Even in the midst of winter
We hold onto spring
And a new day dawning

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