fall

19 degrees
footsteps crunch and leave no trace
on the forest floor
tree limbs grey-bare
except for the beech
who hang on
winter’s death rattle
five small hen turkeys pick
their way along the dirt road
a first winter
how many will survive
the ravens soar overhead
spot me
swoop closer
land in a pine
the bear came by
lately my neighbors say
checked each shuttered window
pushed in on the screen doors
huffed
circled twice
then went right for the potted plants
frozen reminders
he dumps them all
each carefully with one paw
so they lie upside down
not scattered
not damaged
sign posts
bear conversation
I well understand
as I right each one
tamp the rich soil back in
pile them near the shed
ready for next spring
if he stops by again
he will know
the ravens screech
circle
and fly off toward Mt. Passaconaway
19 degrees
footsteps crunch and leave no trace
on the forest floor
but my neighbors know I’m home
if only for one night
before I move along.