A crystal white blanket

surrounds sturdy roots

hidden deep below the forest floor

during winter in Maine.


Dormant oaks and maples, alive with

gray squirrels scrambling to

deliver fat cheeks filled

with coveted acorns

to fill their midwinter pantry.


Clever raccoons climb tall oaks,

clinging to leafless branches

high above the ground.

Prickly fat porcupines gnaw

away at maple or birch bark

searching for insects

to snack on at midnight.


Stately oaks stand straight,

stiff soldiers sending tall shadows

across a marshmallow-y coverlet

blanketing the forest floor

at sunrise.


Crisp evergreens

puffed twice their size,

hibernate under heavy coats

of white icing, providing refuge

like condo’s for families

of chattering songbirds.

Branches bow down in reverence

to the mighty passing storm.


Battered by house-sized

chunks of ice Kennebec shores

appear smooth and glassy

as if shrink-wrapped for the winter

like hibernating yachts at the marina.



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