In Winter's Slumber Land
Cold winds, the assassins of startled vegetation,
blow in with late autumn. Snow arrives
to cover the terrain with blankets
of white, pristine feathery snow; meanwhile,
some bodies of water turn into ice.
As the sun hangs low in vales of shadows,
December silently creeps in.
Skunks, raccoons, squirrels and other small mammals
also have crept in silence . . .
to hide inside secluded spaces against the cold’s encroachment.
Their breathing, heart rate, and metabolism slow down.
Waking periodically from their torpor,
they feed and then go back to sleep.
As cold-blooded as the enveloping snow,
snakes slither instinctively into crevices of rocks
as turtles and frogs burrow into mud.
Bears, having feasted in the fall,
now hide in their dens in a state of deep slumber.
How silent and tranquil is the realm of nature’s creatures
hidden from the prying eyes of us humans.
Some of us become almost as sluggish as the animals
squirreled away in their nests of twigs and leaves.
We feast like the pre-hibernating bears.
In a festive mood or perhaps feeling sadly forlorn,
we are more likely than in any of the other seasons
to hide away inside our own abodes,
especially when soft pearls twirl from twilight’s sky
and winter lays down a thick quilt of snow
beneath a canopy of sparkling stars.
We waken, at times like this, to our world abloom with snow,
grumbling at times about having to shovel our driveways
or to travel on roads slick with ice or snow.
Like the hibernating bear, I prefer in winter
the tranquility of comfortable slumber.
Nights in winter stay dark longer.
Our heart rate, breathing, and blood pressure drop low
as drifting into the deep of dreamy sleep we go.
Ah, winter, let me sleep in your quietude
as though I were being buried in the wondrous snow
of your slumber land.
Copyright ©
Andrea Dietrich
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