Melting ice beats to a sacred rhythm, as the Sun’s warmth awakens the land from a cold night’s slumber. The nocturnal ones give way to the day shift, as sounds from the Northern forest commence their daily numbers. A cool mystical fog lays thick on the receding snow, from the lack of a stiff wind to guide it through the old growth, that has yet to be found by the logger. The Maple has gathered it’s sweet flow of liquid life to re-energize for another season, as the hawk on it’s limb spots the first morning meal, creeping out from last year’s leaf. And another day of life starts here on Earth.
-C. H. Eldridge