Walking through my yard as if I were a stranger
helps me notice a “ground gallery” of pine needles
spiraling out from perfectly round holes.
No dirt’s been pulled from the openings;
a few inches from the rim, the ground is calm.
A skunk digging out grubs created these tiny bits of art;
I’ll save this sweet scene
for when I need a dust of snow moment to reclaim a day I’m on my way to rueing.
(Keeps Monsanto away too.)
( Colby’s The First Book of Animal Signs)
Dust of Snow
BY ROBERT FROST