And In Spring

A pair of scarlet cardinals sit high on the
bare branches of the red maple in the yard
next door to mine, the male trilling his
devotion to spring. This morning's rain
has filled the birdbath in my backyard and
there on its rim sits a blackbird, time and
again dipping itself in the bath, flicking its
feathers, washing away the rigours of its
long journey in reverse migration. All
around looks much the worse for wearing
winter's mantle far too long. The freed
garden soil hosts last fall's dried detritus
a waste space of grim drabness though
there are faint signs here and there of new
growth emerging from patient perennials
anxious to return from winter's purgatory.
In the forest a pileated woodpecker has
dominated an old pine in a frenzy of mining
the beetle larvae within, its clack-clack
and lunatic cry filtering through the forest
canopy. And there in the depths of the ravine
the first of the returning Mallards settles on
the creek spanning the forest depths, full
speed ahead as it steams, another returnee.