to burrow underneath the hoarfrost the
howling winds cold burying the last signs
of fall the last robin's call to leave

to follow the life's call ode to sleep
as the wise bear does curling deep in a
cavern his sleep ignoring

the December's and January's
sun oblique
with misery  transposes the day
shorter  

bareness the trees the land the 'scape
in sleep the wiser among us
flee or doze

until, barely on the fly
might hear a whisper of
wings ,

see on the trees limbs
a slight greening
creep out from our hiding
or refuges

smiling at Spring