hill of the chickadee

deep snow is poor man's fertilizer.
 and the corn ladies
lean away from the west wind,
the wind that here means business and
sometimes destruction.
they who were so tall
bend and almost break in this fierce
cold bluster.
 some endings are so small
they seem pointless,
the why.
this one i lifted to my face.
touched it's silken down,
and i brought it to my frozen garden
to be this woman's rich fertilizer.