By Berta Winiker

Under a dense canopy of smoke and powder cirrus, butter yellow paddles gently slice into inkiness

The zigzag of an insect’s path signals fleeting touchdown

Toppled trees abound – wind, woodpeckers, weather, whatever

A subtle soil rainbow on one still fortifies life on a massive rootball, imagine what lies within the tangle. 

Another bites the dust in a prideful nutrient-rich leafiness. How long before it succumbs to the labyrinth that litters and layers the thicket below? 

The former business end of a sturdy tree rests perpendicular to shore. Forward march in a graduated line the vestiges of its former life, spindles breaking surface.

Yet another harbors in its decaying network a contrast of desiccated twiggy exoskeleton, a whisper of bronze needles, the emerging breath of young ferns

Floating hearts carpet the inkiness, sporting intricate and miniature florals

Pause here. 

Pause to cup them and note colors. Reach into their gelatinous girdering, the support of such delicacy. 

Pause for the play of sunlight on silvery-green foil upended  by breeze, the sturdiness of flat mahogany platters.

Pause for the music of brushing through and against this invitation of vegetation. 

Growth and decay, a making way. 

Until next time

 

 

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