by Kevin T. McEneaney
Hush! He is prancing, frolicking in snow:
More like a striped chipmunk than squirrel.
Tossing snow in air, falling like a veil
removed from upright arm, teeth-smiling face.
He lives in fluff-joy of scattering snow.
With bucket he makes ad-hoc snow castles—
sixteen towers randomly dot back yard
like relics of an enigmatic cult
before the advent of written language.
Snowy whiteness expands to horizon
like a blank page which Nature will fulfill
just as I scribe this page with musings.
Freed from the idea of mortality,
he has no concept of immodesty.