WINTER by Ann Cooke Some birds migrate-the brave ones stay; The woodland creatures ghost the trees. The ground's aglitter-hard and crisp; The nights are long, the dawn's a'freeze! The squirrels have to all go nuts, the little mouse must 'dor'. The plants must rest, the sap must sink while waiting for the thaw. The badgers scuffle in their sett; red foxes trot, light-footed, keen. The owl flies low on long cold nights. the rabbit scuds-predator seen. Each breath adds to the frosty mist, our words hang in the chilly air. The best winter crunches at our feet as we hurry home to our own snug lair. But-would we love the lamplight's glow if we didn't look into the dark? We would we even stop to see the pictures in the log fire's jumping spark? I we didn't have those frozen toes could we justify mulled wine? If rain and sleet were not so bleak would Spring seem so sublime?