Resting

A midnight winter-

encroached upon the unsuspecting.

      They, in their attempt to flee

left their path in disarray.

      The geese led the way,

and died mid-flight to Mexico.

Like the butterflies-

 their colorful corpses littering the ground.

      Flurries covered their mortality,

soft feathers thanking the hospitality.

Sweet liquor satiates the sacred ground,

from the bottle of a drunk passerby.

     All is quite lonely.

     All are stuck inside.

     All have finally died.

And to rest they finally went.