To Marguerite Noskiye of Grouard


The beautiful, sleek weasel
She hunts hard and fast
Her kits will squirm and bite
too fiercely
when they go hungry
And like her mother before her
when the winter of survival
blows across the land
and she can find no food
She will lay down
roll her eyes back
and just as she did
her kits will eat their mother too.