Outside the fall is deep and new
Tangled branches on the trees
Are bare black but drifted white
Survivors of the wintry night,
Birds are perched by nature blended;
At intervals a few will fly.
A few will light beneath a weathered
Picnic table darting drilling
Sorting husks or hunting a nut
Some squirrel has hidden in a place
He only knows. Then on a stump
One whiskered fellow paws a fruit
And from above a pirate jay
Comes circling down so blue so bold
Pecks his tail then steals the gold.