To Worry No More - or Less

In December its easy to see
Hawks and waxwings
Flying from tree to leafless tree,
Olive, orange and rust against the gray.
And I worry they may lack
Berries and mice in such fresh, cold air.

Turning, as dry leaves stir
I remember
Who will draw curtains against the chill
Who will land this night in linen and lofty down
To worry no more - or less,
And who will tuck heads beneath a wing
And in the dawn seek well with keen eyes
Their daily fare