Impressions of Nature

Had there been more than 
a fine mist when we started out
we would never have entered
the forest for a winter hike
the forest floor thick with the
snowfalls of the season. But 
embark we did under a frowning
cloud-crowded sky, ascending
the long iced-over trail into
the woods where the melting snow
has swollen the creek below
rushing in shallow rippling
cascades of winter-murky runoff
a micro-roar of released energy
where a pair of mallard ducks
have made a home of temporary
convenience. Soon the tempo
of the rain pucks the hoods of
our winter jackets in an emphasis
of increased vigour and though
we aren't singing in the rain
we are grateful for the landscape
before us in the winter woods,
a fine mist rising from the water
faintly blurring sightlines like an
impressionist painting by nature.