My Winter Forest

Winter Light

Almost 7:30 a.m. The light steals very, very shyly about the forest … winter light begins to reclaim its dominion earlier and earlier.

The sky edges away from a color not found on any palate … a kind of black-purple-blue, tinged with green. It fades and fades, until the predawn light rolls in, and all becomes familiar as the keys to the Kingdom of Light are handed over to the day.

The rain that has steadily fallen all night has stopped, and the remaining drops play a slow syncopation off the gutters and deck, a patient metronome.

Rushing Waters

I hear the river rushing several hundred feet distant, I see in my mind’s eye the river rocks becoming polished… incomparable coins in the river bed, each unique. They lay at the bottom of the clear, rushing water, watching the sun and moon and stars, a clock face, above.

Song birds look for their reflection in the little pools that eddy along the side of the hurrying water, while the stealthy coyotes come to the water’s edge, looking over their shoulders. Always pursuers, always pursued. One by one they lean down to drink the cold, cheerful water while a sentry keeps watch.

This is my winter forest.

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9 thoughts on “My Winter Forest”

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