Overnight the last leaves fall from frozen trees
And settle slowly on the forest floor.
Winter settles in too. The woods are still
And all their many creatures lie asleep,
Hid out of sight beneath black twisting roots,
Down endless tunnels, deep beneath the earth.
Snow falls like sleep above, and sleep like snow,
Casting a spell of silence all around,
Good for a hundred years – or so it seems.
From the woodsman’s hut smoke climbs slowly,
He hibernates too, or wishes he could!