'Tis the Seasons

This morning's languid snowfall
has left a lightly-substantial coverlet
over our rapidly-depleting snowpack
plagued by the icing effect of warmer
spring-precipitated temperatures
and a more assertive sun.

There is a hushed presence in the
woods, the trees neatly washed and
limned with white plush. Even the
creek, with its newly-released lid of
ice raises but a muffled tinkle as it
rushes headstrong, downstream.

The sky this day reflects the scene
below, brightly overcast, the very
shade of the snow those clouds have
released in their spirit of seasonal
generosity. Not even a murmur of wind
as we tread those silent pathways
through the wooded ravine.

Trails left by rabbit, pheasant,
grouse, squirrel and mice are clearly
seen, patterning the new snow. Soon
enough, the rough caws of circulating
crows, the soft ducky-peep of nuthatches
and the near-distant puncture of
woodpeckers enliven the air.

Together, we have foiled nature
in one small, local way, for this
was one of those rare years with scant
conifer seeds and cones, leaving winter
birds and small mammals one less
food resource. Each day we distribute

nuts and seeds in the ravine, in
cracks and spaces in bark and the
cleft of branches as we make our daily
rounds, squirrels eager to take our
tribute to their will to survive rough
seasons. Now they clamber like

clever acrobats, swinging from
branch to branch, tree to ground
in height-defying boldness; saucily
switch tails, twisting around tree trunks
in a frenzy of seasonal mating.