This Urban Forest

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The sun dazzles as it sends its luminous
probes deep into forest bowers, sparking
colour to life before newly-fallen leaves
surrender their glory to the muting effects
of time. The nostalgic fragrance of tannin
invades our consciousness reminding of seasons
and the passage of memorable occasions.

The sky is as azure against the dark green
of spruce and fir as the firmament has
ever been. Whipped cream posing as clouds
float in frothy wisps and bubbles against
the wind. Wind, which at ground level
sternly whips tree masts and sends crackling
branches to join the busy forest floor.

Raging in powerful blasts of pure energy,
wind looses a storm of pine needles slanting
through the atmosphere. Leaves are stolen
from branches as yet unwilling to part with
their summertime integuments, adorning
them now like fanciful ornaments.

Birds cower within the comfort of trees,
uncertain that their flight will respond to
their will, not that of the wind. The chatter
of chickadees and nuthatches spring
lightly from leafed interiors, embroidering
the bass of the wind's momentum.

The forest floor has been thoroughly
drenched by days of unremitting rain,
and broad puddles sit complacently
absorbed in their dutiful replenishment
of vital ground water, awaiting spring.

The woodland ravine's coursing waterways
slide in a swollen rush on their predestined
journey to the great, roiling Ottawa River.
Tired old bark is enjoined to relieve their
tenacious grip on a copse of dead elms.

Late-blooming asters await the hovering
attention of bees for whom the gathering
season has lapsed, and they in worn
hibernation. Acorns, seeds and ripe
cones from pines, spruce and hemlock
generously stipple the undergrowth.

The irresistible bounty scooped and
cached by squirrels and chipmunks,
preparing their autumnal storage against
the rigours and bleakness of the long winter
months. Plentiful now, their resources
depleted when snow and ice glaze the
frozen landscape of this urban forest.