By January the pond
should be frozen over.
Against a snowy back drop
birds in hues of Indian Summer
should shiver along the knobby arms
of naked trees like Christmas ornaments.
Instead branches quiver in the breeze
rich with rustling leaves of hunter green
and peeping hatch-lings gape blindly
from nests of twine tucked deep in luxurious crowns
undisturbed by industrious squirrels
hoarding their bounty of seeds and berries
in crumbling dreys still alive with living things
out of sync with nature.
image borrowed from Getty