Sonnet for the December Kalends

Woodpeckers tattoo staccato rhythms,
chasing bark beetles by connecting holes.
Geese on ice forget summer’s sweet fathoms;
foxes listen to earth for sleeping voles.
There’s food enough, since she knows where to look:
listening and smelling will turn out mouse.
Owl and hawk regard Earth as open book:
here is rabbit warren; here, chipmunk house,
here blue jay foot-prints in half-frozen mud.
Black vulture gyres in tourmaline skies.
Magnolia prepares its downy bud.
Mockingbird never left, but still tells lies
of southern parkland rich with seed and slug,
mute of abundance here on forest rug.

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