They gather.
From woods, from glens, from treetops and burrows.
They gather.
Some climb, some crawl, some burrow, some scurrow.
They gather.
The cornucopia appears and nothing is questioned.
They gather.
To feast, to dine, to munch, to mind.
They gather.
Each year the cycle continues, the cycle completes.
They gather.
Not counting as as other, as threat.
They gather.
And take, and give, without asking,
Because answers are few
And survival is all.
They gather