Full moon reaching down tonight

Fingers contoured edge of ice;

Beaver swimming with his stick

Gliding ripples white moonlit.

Mallards squatting on the flats

Barred owl eyeing two muskrats

Beaver’s working on that dam

Got to mend it fast as he can.

Cold night, clear night, frozen air

Cornfields pale as angel hair

Raccoon’s watching from the shore

Knows he’ll dine on eggs no more.

East is shedding pale gray light

Beaver takes another bite

Marsh hawk sees the morning come

Mice and rabbits better run.

Big birds rising, wheeling south

Another stick in beaver’s mouth

Fish are sluggish, unaware

Better stop and drink some air.

Ice is growing, clouding sky

Rushes rattling, crisp and dry

No use counting on that sun

Now that beaver’s on the run.