The Woodland Stroll

As reckless decisions are measured
our determination to forge on
not to forgo any part of enjoying
a glorious day, might have seemed
ill advised. On the other hand, not much
was at stake but brief discomfort and
a bit of dismay that blue skies suddenly
welcomed a surge of dark clouds 
crowding out the sun. All day a
ferocious wind had shushurated through
this spring landscape, enlivening trees
in a graceful dance, bowing and
curtsying, quite unabashed that
nature had not yet delivered their
ball gowns of living green. As we
set out into the forested ravine the
initial patter of large drops anointed
our heads while we sought haven under
a large old pine scarce able to capture
the rain. But the cloud passed, the 
darkness lifted and we ventured on
captivated by spring violets, trilliums
and lilies-of-the-valley still resonating
from that morning's kiss of the sun.
The wind bellowed through the woods,
whipping last fall's dried foliage off
the forest floor like startled doves
rising in the whipped air. Fiercer
gusts blew up a storm of movement
forcing trees to release dead limbs
smashing their descent among
awakening bracken below. And we
quickening our stride were outmatched
by a sudden drenching downpour,
nature's comeuppance to our complacent
trust that luck would see us through
our day's woodland hike unscathed.