An Azure Sky, A Molten Sun

Nothing, not the merest scintilla
of a cloud formation, neither wisp
not bouffant masses, obscures
this day's perfectly crowned sky
of soft, uninterrupted blue. Wind
there is, but presenting as a modest,
muted, friendly cooling breeze.

On the floor of the forest, still bare
of summer's ardent green, a blanket
of dry leaves, twigs and expired botany
nurtures the soil beneath,wheedling
ferns, brush and seasonal wildflowers
to emerge, triumphant over their
tediously long and frigid slumber.

Bumblebees, hoverflies, solitary
bees, present themselves and their
infinite errands, erratically whipping
the air as they busily recall themselves
to duty. Comes the slight, emphatic
and lonely call of a single peeper;
desolate, from nearby wetlands.

Mourning cloaks, orange commas
and azure spring butterflies slip
among the yet-bare tree branches,
seeking out elusive mates. From
a branch high above, the black, hunched
shape of a crow, taking note, its
clever brain recognizing creatures
not of the forest, but within it.

A croak, and he flaps off. A pair
of red squirrels, in territorial lunacy,
whip madly in hot pursuit, one of the
other, then turn and reverse the chase.
Seen too, and heard, a small quadruped
in camouflage, prowling and dashing
in half-hearted, futile chase, each time
the frenzied squirrels pass by.