Forest Life

Hsssht! Now you see it, soon you won't.
The resorption of the bracken has begun.
The green vegetation that once crowded
the forest floor is succumbing to the
inevitable, turning yellow, vanishing into
the leaf mass of generations becoming part
and portion of the universal regeneration 
of life. Overhead, through the canopy of
the forest, clouds have gathered, petulant
and threatening shoved by a high wind
and the forest interior glows dark though
dusk has not yet entered where hot and
humid air has created a mist of water
vapour and the air is rent with the shrill
call of a woodpecker as though laughing
at its own ribald humour. Songbirds prepare
for their nocturnal flyways to escape the
frigid winter months, looping through the
forest while small furred animals busy
themselves gathering seeds and nuts in
a frenzy of silent action. Gusts of hot wind
carry the unmistakable stench of skunk
to the lower edges of the ravined forest
from a site above where youth sit awaiting
the dark cover of night quietly speaking
through the haze of their marijuana joints.