How would the rodents speak

What words would they say

“Yes, you, bring berries to your back yard

And all manner of citrus and apples alike

Fresh, full with fructose, on these barren of days

We planned well for the season

The Winter in May of the Spring

Evidence our good-faith actions

Our holes in diligence dug

Where we find once again, our daily bread

While our feathered Southern friends, oh!

How they need, need, need your hand

We’ll let them dine

We promise”

We Keep Hope

Winter and alone
Unbearable uncertainty
God what will you do
When wind forces its way to the door
Carrying icy-cold information
Crystalizing shut
The truth after all
There’s no school today



In the dead of Winter
After the artificial electric
The sound of sung merriment
Now fallen
Let the shine on my bare shoulders 
Reflect the distant auroras
And hold the light
From your eyes 

Summer In Winter

Who told you?
Who said it should’ve been so?

The looming liar lurking?
A voice from the mount’?

Would that there’d been!
Oh that there’d be!

What harm would befall to let it all go?
And exclaim to the the everlasting, omnipresent silence:

There’s ink to the contrary;
Screaming loud and clear. 

So my skin -if none else- must tell the truth, dear. 
My hand, the fall, forced.