Snow-Humped Trees

An exquisite shimmer of silver glances
over the stolid white curtain shielding
the late-day sun. The sky glows a benediction
over the lingering day, as soon a golden hue
creeps into the silver; heaven's riches on display.
Lifting eyes to the diorama glowing above
we see cracks of blue, hints of sun rays.

In the forest, the trees stand humped with
thickly-layered snow. The entire landscape
is billowed softly with frozen white crystals,
creaking and crunching emphatically underfoot.
An approaching helicopter thrums the atmosphere,
timidly, then firmly taking fleet possession of the
glorious space above. It dominates what it
cannot imagine, then flees, and silence reigns.

Wait; listen, do you hear that fluttering
clacking? In the near distance; hear it? From
its aural emphasis, a hairy woodpecker, assuming
its rite-of-harvest in this winter moonscape of
white shapes and brittle cold. A thin layer of
moisture runs over the imperturbable ice of
the creek, imprisoning within its crystalline
ribbon of water all aquatic life awaiting the
release of spring warmth, emulating us.

A crow, sitting high on a barren spire,
watches our progress soundlessly, intently.
Not so, though, a pair of brightly flickering
nuthatches, oblivious of our intrusion, intent
on looping the air alongside a busy flock of
chickadees far from their boreal retreat.