At times insects come with winter wood,
Making scenes, and they but rarely one good
Such as the ant colony awakened,
Thawed in here by heat the wood stove’s making
Chinese fire drill ants running all about,
What could I do but throw them all back out?
Tonight it’s a more tenuous chirping,Creak like in the boards of the woodworking
Examining the legs beneath my chair
I found naught there was lacking for repair
And brought on dreams of past summers’ thickets,
Joyful buzz whirred behind clean white pickets
Seems this cricket thinks my hearth a
Warm compline sun,
While winter night claims Earth
And everyone
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