Autumn Fall

The type of percussive, penetrating
incessant rain we had all day previous
is just the kind of precipitation that is
known to turn certain surfaces into
a gelatinous turgid mess almost
swamp-like in its foetid dark density
with the attribute of a gliding raceway.
When a forest floor is comprised of
clay and sand such an inundation
creates a moving, dank instability 
which even and above all, intrepid
forest hikers should know augers ill.
On flat-surface trails, not so bad
but venture ill-advisedly uphill or
downhill and one gambles with the
potential to twist and tumble while
some nasty woodland elf witnessing
the event feels itself right royally
entertained. The impression that
the hiker is in full control vanishes
in an instant when an ill-chosen step
is taken with a modicum of confidence
only to gain the brief belief that one
has stepped into a slow-motion
calamity that sees boots betraying
the wearer, slipping and slithering
on the motion-prone clay, taking feet
and legs, backside and outstretched
arms on a trip one would far prefer
not to be at one with all angled and
reluctantly surprised. The evidence
of that departure from dignity can
only be expunged once clothing,
trousers, jacket, mittens are discarded
on reaching home, the drying patches
of thick clay tinting the basin a
deep rich colour of vomit, unceasingly
ridding the garments of their burden
ultimately to be surrendered to the
washing machine bearing no 
resemblance whatever to the function
of the rain washing the atmosphere to
create of an entire landscape an exercise
in random acts of imposed genuflection.