Quintessensual They've Flown South in Celebration

They've flown south in celebration of snow that's yet to come;
do they look back in wonder about the deer,
with whom they shared woods still bare?
Do they tweet over the hard, light brown,
without rabbit tracks that were always there?
They know they have fresh streams to see,
when the snow that never comes is gone again,
and the deer too are gone,
with the worms they bite and delight in,
fresh from the greenish ground they think of,
as being so soft and warm and wet.
They've flown south with no contemplation,
that there might be no cause for celebration.

Copr. 1999
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