L'aura del Campo

Mole [184]

Mole

— inspired by Nora Moseman

"The snow gives back
the sun without the wanton yellow" and my grey
fur trembles in my hole.

How to say I'm numb
if not to note the nothingness
of grey. Not one shimmer of silver—
just a pall of dust blotting out
the vibrancy of living.

Once I was a gardener
of color: orange cosmos beckoning
butterflies, blue globes enticing bees, red trumpets
for the hummers. They all visited me.
I became a destination
for winsome wings.

In autumn a tracery
of hoarfrost graced my leaves,
slowly released reds and yellows from their prisons,
attracting those who deigned to dine
on one last supper.

But that was another lifetime,
long-ago. For now it's winter and layer
upon layer of cold bears down. Days—grow dim,
give way to night. My grey fur
shivers in my den.

© Kåre Enga [174.184] (20.july.2017)