Restoration

 

This has been a long winter. A difficult winter

for the forest. Pummeled by cold, ice and snow

the forest canopy was forced to surrender itself to

the condition of a climax forest, shedding the old

and the weak. Corpses of once-stout trees have fallen

to the forest floor as though a giant hand had carelessly

plucked them from their allotted place as honoured

forest occupants then tossed them as litter, trunks

crowding the forest floor. Fierce winds repeatedly

assaulted the forest, ice storms battered the pine trees

burdening them into fragility to the incessant winds.

Feeble in its winter sleep the forest suffered silently

a graveyard of scant resemblance to the vibrant green

of summer months. Then spring arrived and the sun

cast its brilliance over the ailing woods and suddenly the

sodden leaf mass of the forest floor was rent by bright

yellow heads of Coltsfoot. Hazelnut shrubs dangled their 

catkins and bright red florets dappled maple crowns

while a soft haze of green spread over tall poplars.

In a return-migration, a pair of old familiars appear to

steam comfortably along the snow-melt forest stream

as the forest hosts returning Mallards. Mourning Cloaks

drift lazily on spring air currents as life re-commences

and the forest resumes its endless cycle of restoration.