Climate Change

Climate Change Frozen ponds are mirrors--reflections of the angels. Creatures tend to dwell above the tree line here in northern woods. Now why should I, in furs and turban, bow to wind and frosty cold? I'm hunting still with quiver filled with many blunted quills. I have not seen the river otter's fur, the sheen of fishes' scales, nor other autumn stores. The rabbits under snow are snug beneath the emerald northern glow; birds all gone. I'm asking now in echoes-- How have hunting patterns changed? It goes to further blunt my family's food supplies. A change has come to us beneath these skies.