Straggled branches claw the air,
hope for purchase on warm fur.
But the animals have vacated,
dug into burrows or fled hunters.
Old year’s Sun sinks lower on the horizon,
Southern breezes warm lit-up riverbanks
for the time being…
We all know what is coming soon,
so people take their last walks on the beach,
one last enjoyment of rural river scenery.
Time to snap a few last pictures.
A sand whorl here, a branch with berries there,
light and shadow playing across the forest floor.
Some views of that flowing water, changing color
from gray to blue to green and back again;
always in motion, bloodstream of the planet.
It always feels good to escape our artificial constructs,
and subsume the self back into a natural scene.
Tonic for one’s consciousness,
hope for the future,
to propel us through three months of snow and ice hell,
to the spring we so rightly deserve and will certainly have earned.
Happy Thanksgiving!