There is no season to my fear
but I would likely turn it into
joy. Imagine how the red fox lives
emerging from his frozen burrow-
to have survived another day.
Or wolves, their coats powdered
thick with snow, awake to winter
lights that gleam like diamonds
on the ice; how they jump and play
without a plan for hunting.
Even memories of butterfly or flower
whose frozen wings and petals dropped
cannot deface the beauty of the hour,
winter-morning, wolf and fox.