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.