Moving Forward

Setting out in humid heat,

the sky relentlessly blue, we

dip into the ravine to 

follow the trail taking us deep

under the shading canopy on our 

quotidian mission to fully enjoy

our natural surroundings,

breathing air cleansed to a

purity shared by the birds and

small beasts whose home it is.

We are gratefully shielded

from the sizzling sun whose

broad strips of light illuminate

the clear green of the leafage,

through which it filters, as ethereal

and lovely a sight as was ever seen,

as we pass beech and birch, oak and

bass, maple and Hawthorne,

the forest hardwoods.

Overhead, the low rumble of a

plane on its trajectory, then

another, resembling thunder but

hardly credible, the visible landscape

of the sky pure and clear.  Yet, amid

long pauses there, clearly enough is

the long baritone boom of thunder.

No imminent threat, we nonchalantly

assume it bypassing and indulge in

the usual prolonged ramble.

The blue and the clear amid

dancing fingers of sunlight our

assurance the steadily increasing,

drawn-out booms represent one of

nature's bluffs.  Ah, but then overhead

distantly oncoming ragged clouds

wiping the sky clear of blue,

replaced by washrag grey. Then the

sound and the fury manifestly above,

we find purpose in moving forward

with a purposed alacrity to quite

match the storm's arrival.