Mole Hills by marge.

I always watch the fields

And grass verges.

What am I looking for?

I look for molehills,

The outward evidence of

These tiny creatures

That will not be deterred.

Spending their lives in darkness,

Hardly ever seen.

But, we know where they have been!

They never seem to care,

Where their hills appear.

Now, after all the snow

Their hills seem bigger,

Better and more abundant.

They have not been held up

By the depth of snow.

It has been used to

Their advantage

Their dark kingdoms,

Enlarged, extended.

Tunnels never ended.

NOTE: This poem was written in
January 2010.