The silken thread was broken by a family of hungry honey seeking bees,
But all was not forsaken, the wind still blew between leaves.
As the dust swept up, a sign of winters approach,
She felt the leaving of summer with a reproach.
Still much to do and no time left on the clock,
She would have to hurry, there could be a shock,
Juggernaut trucks rattle down the road quick,
Pay them no mind; she had her own trick.
Winter, endured in her very special way,
A stack of books and a long sleep, make this black bear’s day.