Where are the bears, gone to their lairs, gone to a den, in a hidden glen, gone into a sleep so very deep, a wild wind blows, bringing first snows, nature sighs under early winter skies, and as the sun sets cold on rocks so very old, down a forest path I wander, life all around and within me to ponder,  aware of life and death, with each breath, aware of each rock and tree, feeling free, yet, as I continue a cold wilderness roam, what warms my heart is the thought of home.