Although spring with all its coquettish
promises has finally arrived she finds
a forest in mourning, its crown reduced
the forest floor a sad litter of limbs and
branches torn from trunks and sadly
strewn, a cemetery of split trunks and
pathetic snags whose torn remnants gaze
in sorrow at a sky now benign but a fury
of misery during the months of winter when
micro-bursts of furiously destructive wind
interminable snowstorms, freezing rain
and ice storms tormented the tired forest
from saplings to venerable old giants. It is
a morose mood that permeates this forest
despite spring's premise that all will be well.
A bemused spring responds as only she can
warming the chill of the sorrowful atmosphere
calling on the sun to illuminate the sad wanton
massacre of the forest canopy and urging the
early forest flowers to spread the cheer of their
brilliant colour over the still-sere landscape.
No comments:
Post a Comment