Mountain Trail

The wood sorrel and mosses,
those minuscule forests of
primitive provenance draw the eye
with the sprightly freshness of
their glimmering verdancy lighted
like a cool, colour-enhancing fire
by the all-pervasive rain. The
mature canopy of oak and maple,
birch and poplar absorb and shelter,
drinking deeply of the storm,
filtering through the foliage and
dense needles of hemlock, pine
and spruce as the excess lights the
luminous pink of Ladies Slippers'
globular blooms, brightening the
sodden understory of ferns and
dogwood, glistening with the
lacquer of the storm's fierce
onslaught. The pelting rain hardly
heard against the surging clamour
and the dominating thunder of the
mountain stream, surging and
billowing over stolid, huge boulders
lining the granite raceway of the
slope at the mountain's base.