Spring Mist

Over the bare forest canopy
returning hawks spiral
in flight, whistle their
predatory presence to the
small, furred creatures below.
From the spire of an evergreen
comes the bell-like call of
a bluejay, passing through.
Nature has tipped her sky's
bowl to a cool, steady drip.
From the forest valley where
winter snow runoff has
swelled the creek, the
rushing waters provide a
countervailing chorus of
waterfalls, churning swamp
gas odour over storm-felled
trees crowding the water's edge.
Mist rises steadily obscuring
the delicate details of trees
tentatively in bud; nuthatches
and chickadees flit through the 
network of hemlock branches.