Soon, leaves fall into winter’s nostalgia snowflakes,
Crystallizing opportunities in drifting sandcastles,
While squirrels pile porticoes of pine nuts to keep,
In cloistered burrows of cornucopia, digging deep,
Storing Summer embers to pyre life in winter fire.
Even as valley shadows in winter’s lion-hearted ire
Are tamed, by three small rocks; a planned empire
Poised and prepped in the Goliath of High Summer.