The coolness sets in,
and sunlight turns fleeting.
The emissions of fall
stifle my growth,
keep me inside—
a relentless hibernation.
New chemicals
artificially alter my psyche.
I see no benefit on the horizon—
I continue anyway.
Are the palpitations
worth the outcome?
The wind whips unapologetically,
disrupting the peace.
The integrity of the trees is tested—
leaves not quite weak enough
to give up.
Do the birds appreciate
the extra push,
or do they dread
the loss of control?
Seeds and grain fall
to the forest floor,
their final moments scattered,
picked up beak by beak.
Has the groundhog
sensed the season’s change?
I have fed him,
but have not seen him.
Perhaps
he prepares
for his own hibernation.