A Walk In The Woods

The leafless trees, their pole-tall shapes
and rigid bark coloured in hues of white,
grey and brown on this spring day, are
unmoved by the wind soughing
through their limbs. In the understory
seedlings and saplings that will in
time become towering firs, spruce
and pine sit below their parents.
Hemlock and yew line the hillsides.

A tiny brown wren flits swiftly from
rock outcropping to creek log-jam
along the waterway, rippling, glinting
in the early afternoon sun. The sweet
trill of a cardinal singing above, trails
through the wood. Later, the demented
loon-like call of a Pileated woodpecker,
punctuates the air, contrapuntal closure.

Trillium heads nod brightly scarlet,
not far from sunny coltsfoot. Trout
lilies, their spotted leaves spearing
the damp spring soil, colonize the
moistly receptive woods in their brief
moment of glory, soon to be overtaken
by more determined ferns. The green-
red tender sprouts of brush glow softly.

The cawing of far-off crows, their
argumentative calls eclipsing the steady
roar of the wind, soon give way to the
shrill, syncopating calls of three hawks
circling the trees, speedily ascending,
turning direction, whisking themselves
through the air as only raptors can,
resolutely seeking their elusive prey.

A small black, stump-tailed squirrel
observes quizzically the passage below
his perch of two small dogs, equally
entranced yet puzzled by newly-released
scents sifting like mist above the forest
floor. Freshly-awakened beetles, bugs
and butterflies fly lazily about, for this
is their introduction to another season.