Fresh Snowfall
The wildfolk print their newspaper again, Their stories neatly typed on glistening snow, Depicting life as lived there in the glen, Such joys and tragedies as we, too, know.
A mouse’s fragile etchings are displayed, Between news items of the neighborhood. Down by the creek, the paper’s edge is frayed, Where muskrats tore it in a search for food.
An item says the rabbits have their young. The frisky squirrel has taken him a wife. Well, let us hope she isn't too high-strung; He is not the kind to lead a quiet life!
Alas, there has been a big increase in crime; The vicious weasels have been on the prowl. Their blood-lust always rises in snow-time; They are even crueler killers than the owl.
Ah, there is much for wood-wise eyes to read, All clearly typed upon the sheet of snow. How much men miss, who live life at high-speed! How much of Life that they will never know.