Early Spring Climb

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our purview limitless
through trees grey and bare
as a haze in the forest.
The stream gathers
winter's last gasp
sounding like a
hurricane mounting
and we watch the water
dash white-spumed
over green-lichened granite.
Beside the stream
coy unfurling of ferns
slits of white as
trilliums raise heads
to the newly-compelling sun.
We step around
winter's casualties
sloppily strewing
the forest floor;
fir and spruce
mourning spindly spires.
We even doubt
survival of the fittest
observing great pines
split asunder
by winter's tantrums.
The ascent is less gradual
than summer's memory
as we sit on a promontory
overlooking the lake
where three blunt-winged
marsh hawks laze on the wind
pinions etched
on the lowering sky.