In autumn I watch you, bear like, preparing your room
Against winter's weight. The bear, having eaten its way
To sleep, fills its cramped room with the breath of wild berry.
The snow batters its dirt walls, blankets them
In the silvery whiteness of a February moon.
The bear stirs ever so slightly, lost in the womb
Of its own winter dreams.
You, in your bear-like room, watch the days of winter