Winter Windsport

Loping along

snowshoes leaving

a lazily tufted trail

the sky like curdled milk

wind cradling clouds

water crystals

shimmer rainbow colours

on our frozen eyelids.

We slide the slope

of a hill

stippled with cedar seedlings

parent trees nearby

tall and symmetrical

aromatic fragrance

heating the chill air.

No birds this

Arctic day yet

the unmistakable sign

of one apocryphal bird.

Foursquare in the

centre of a naked Hawthorn

a birdsnest

shaped of the same

dark thorny branches.

Peering inside

we see the glowing perfect

ellipsoid of a white snowegg

the wind has whipped within.

c.1979