You think you want to tuck in for winter,
hibernate like the bears or box turtles,
as bats or snakes or bumblebees do.

But that means you’d have to secure
a safe sleep spot, store up a lot of body fat
(and no matter how much you think you

have, it’s likely not enough), lower your
metabolic rate, breathe once every few
minutes and pretty much turn off your

brain. Honestly, it’s a risky proposition
from which some creatures never awaken.
Instead, you want to be a chipmunk,

a semi-hibernator who tucks into a cozy
crevice or tunnel with your nifty stockpile
of nuts, seeds and dried fruit. You’ll sink

into a good, deep lethargy but awaken
every couple of days to perform obligatory
bodily functions and, best of all, nibble

your way through your stored stash
of snacks. Sleep, poop and eat. Repeat.
And when winter finally ends, you’ll

awaken so well rested you’ll stretch your
cute little legs and wiggle your sweet
ears and nose, look for a chipmunk

buddy or two and break into song—
chip chip, you’ll warble, bird-like,
leaping onto a seedy feeder to chow

down on a new season’s cache of nuts
and seeds, cheeks stuffed with goodies
as you dash into the blush of dawn

on a glorious spring day.