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COMES THE WINTER

The large leaf came leveling down,

I wondered why the wind wielded it?

Looking up, a limb held a lonely squirrel,

He was clutching his catch in his claws,

Another petal his primary pursuit,

Curious what composition he crafted?

I continued to calmly catch his creation,

In the middle of the monstrous maple,

A hideaway had been hidden in a hollow,

There in the thickest thigh of the thicket,

A home, a haven for hiding his hoard,

Safe, sure, a secret sanctuary,

To put a nest egg, nuts without number,

Hidden heap for weather so hoary,

Such a crafty little creature comprehending this call,

Preparing for privation in pursuit of plan,

I left the little guy to lay away,

Went in the house to work on my winter.

PTR November 19, 2010