All the leaves now
the squirrel-huts stand plain which had been hidden,
high atop the towering tulip trees.
They look woefully inadequate shielding from winter winds,
being themselves now all unshielded.
The past few days have been balmy;
and yet the hint of winter
in the skies with their wincing shrinking light
has drawn the raccoon once again out of the woods.
We seldom see him; but the trash-can, toppled on its side with the lid pried,
the chicken bones denuded of their remnant juicy delicacies,
tell the tale.
Welcome back, you furry forager;
time to switch to the more cumbrous container with a lockable top.
All at a sudden-once / seen
stark, behind spare bare branches,
a wisp of cirrus
slow ly slips . . .
revealing in its extended irregular outlines
indecipherable intricacies of wind and temperature in the high sky,
like a Gram-stain unveiling invisible infusoria.