Staccato drops hammer the canopy
Few reach my bush hat’s brim
Caught and splintered on broad leaved maples
Arbutus, oak and fir
A fractured umbrella of a thousand parts
While I inhale damp dust
Moistened tree spunk finally getting hosed down
After the rites of spring
The smell, sharp and soft at the same time
Inhale through nostrils diaphragm deeply
Exhale from mouth sharing breath with a living web
I stride through green tunnels
Where waves of foliage curl trails into lightpipes
Up to hilltop meadows
Horizons to explore
Reading weather signs in leadening clouds
While rumbling thunder punches a black eye
Into the sunset
Shards of lightning sparkle like lost sequins
Catching a tomorrow light
Rain easing, I return
David Trudel © 2013
