squirrel’s keep exposed
to frigid winds of winter
slumber safeguards soul
I see you, now that the leaves are stripped
Resting on the middle branch
Exposed to wind, but holding steady
Empty as the flocks are gone.
A vacant home, now just a resting place
For winter’s backyard travelers.
Just sticks and twigs, stuck on a branch
No speckled orbs to guard.
It’s vacant now awaiting spring
When life will return to green.
Filled with down, soft and warm
Hidden once more to me.