How in tens they appear,
Through the ghostly woods,
Those deciduous branches,
A far cry from tips of antlers.
Like acorns & pine cones.
How in the heart of winter,
Caribous trek thick dunes of snow,
Masts but no sail.
Tundra in a meltdown,
While the boreal shifts latitudes,
As do caribous.
Through misted snow,
They rally past ghostly branches,
Like virgins waiting for spring.
How caribous assemble near,
Santa’s sweat shop in the North Pole,
Like those illegal Mexicans.