A Winter's Tale
The beetle searches,
Looking for food
Left by others.
In this hard winter frost,
The hunt for food
Occupies all his time;
His hunt for food
Is mostly futile,
Searching for what isn't there
Or is covered in snow;
The first cruel snow,
The assassin of winter months.
As the snow flakes fall,
Spinning,
Floating,
To the ground,
The beetle scuttles
To a hole in a tree.
It is warm in there,
With a blanket of leaves.
The beetle,
Overwhelmed by the feast,
Settles down
And begins to eat,
Moving in for winter.
17th December, 1992
|
|
