January Woods
by Gay Williford

Tall, silent tree towers
soar up from the snow-covered ground.
Dark ice-clad branches fan out
crackling in cold breezes.
Intermittent snowflakes waft about
refrosting already laden pines.

Deer and rabbit tracks
tread the deeper snow layers,
their owners in constant search of sustenance.
Magpies and chickadees flitter
between fluffed-out feather pauses
and a weighted, calm silence pervades.

My presence seems an intrusion–
the crunch of my boots way too loud.
I come asking this woodland area
to share something difficult to define.
perhaps something of its survival secret.
Maybe it is its quality of persistence–
the perpetual staging the place projects
in the face of nature’s many changes.
What strength it models to withstand
the precarious moods of weather,
especially those in winter’s grip.
How amazing it is that each tree and bush
wisely withdraws in a kind of sealed cocoon
to wait out the elements, then evolves anew
to grow again in spring’s warmth.

With gratefulness, may I absorb
some of this quiet courage and fortitude–
take it away and try to apply it to the ever
challenging predicaments life throws my way.



 

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