We found
Birch bark, flaking and peeling
Skin of the woods, blowing unbound
Paper for all the wild things
To scribble and scrawl on
Later, burning bright wings
Flutter All around us
Winter still outside.

Hearth-found,
Here is only silent
Storm is roaring torment
Scuttled in the yard
Rattled tin skyward
Flying headlong Winter headstrong
Tears the woods asunder
Nothing hibernating worries
Or is found
Rattling for cover
Like our hungry hearts.