The Poor Beasts of the Earth

I dread putting on my parka
And walking the dog
But she is wise
And already has won me
With sad dark eyes
And quiet sighs.

So out we go into a gray world,
Sidewalks bare but fringed
With hard white grains of snow
And the ground frozen as concrete
Even along the creek path
Where the rabbit always bounds out
Before us, as if surprised,
But tomorrow, he’ll be back again
For the umpteenth reprise

And suddenly, I don’t care
About my comfort or warmth—
I’m concerned about him
And all the tiny creatures
Of the earth

How do they manage to survive
when the temperature's ten below,
When I can’t even bear to walk
A few miles without cursing the cold?

The poor beasts of the earth...
And some of them old.