You are not what is new. You are nothing like fresh snow. You have come and gone so many times I don't bother to count my sightings. You've become an animal people hunt. Doesn't matter which: squirrel, quail, deer…What is fair to ask of you? I could've seen you, I suppose, all quilted down for winter. Maybe you aren't even someone to be hunted. Rather, you are someone to seek out of hibernation. Does this make you feel better? Less threatened? Less threatening. It comes to this, one person so after another.