At thirty-one, farenheit,

The skunk smells are no more…

Each one must have found a place to stay

And food sources nearby in store.

The geese in the pond are mighty few,

It may ice up overnight…

There’ll be less deposits on the walk

To clean up at morning light.

Snow in the midwest may come our way,

Perhaps some by this weekend…

The ski resorts could use revenue

Cold weather’s a snowmaker’s friend.

A little mouse ran out across my path

Under our canopied walk…

Would he say, “it’s too darn cold for me”

If he were allowed to talk?

He beelined it for a bed of dry leaves

Near bushes where he could be warm…

His worms must’ve retreated when it got colder,

Like him, they want to ride out the storm.


–Jonathan Caswell


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