Who?

The rain-flushed creek churns its
passage downstream depositing the
detritus of the day before on its
drenched clay banks, rank with the
forest's spring shedding of winter's
harsh abuse. Aroused bees assiduously
seek early blossoming forage within
obliging yellow-faced trout lilies.

The white-frizzed floral heads of
baneberry, exquisite bells of
lilies-of-the-valley, purple woodland
violets and blossoming serviceberries
all offering transformative substance
in the life cycle of plants and insects.

Overhead, dark clouds, shunted
rudely by prevailing winds offer
glimpses of a lighter hazy layer
revealing an impatient sun denied
full illuminating exposure.

From the depths of the ravine well
below the forest canopy the solemn,
softly urgent query repeated, though
answers there are none. A great grey owl
betraying its raptor's presence to the
warm-blooded prey below. Surely
awaiting no revealing response?