Keeping the foot paths clear

Ferns are green again,soft,
gentle in the evening breeze
push aside fading daffodils,
a blanket for their summer sleep
seemless cover from winter's cold
 summer sun and cuckoo.
All creatures busy with their worlds
rabbits burrow  birch tree roots,
badgers deeper,undermine a larch,
(another fell last night
its pale green buds un open,),
soon to lie beneath ferns
there for summer months
home for myriad forms,
frenzied life,building for the winter,
not so far away . . . . .
Twenty four weeks . . . .that's all,
next month  ferns
cover all the woodland floor;
Must call each day I can
to keep the footpaths clear,
as I have,these last eternal years.