ONCE UPON A TIME

It's February 5, 2019. Looking out my office window I can see that it's snowing lightly... at least for the moment. In the past few days we've suffered through freezing temperatures, and snow-squalls from off of the Bay followed by an unusually warm day where the temperature shot up to +7C accompanied by a heavy rainfall. The temperature has since dropped back to a seasonal norm of -5C. What can you say, it's Canada. Of course, some would say that it's global warming?

Our home is situated in a subdivision surrounded by a sea of private dwellings. Reflecting backwards, having grown up just down the street, I can recall that this area was densely forested and that the road that runs past our place was but a path leading further into the forest, and eventually finding its way to what is referred to as the longest road in Ontario having its beginning on the shore of Lake Ontario, and ending in the Penetanguishene harbour, or Georgian Bay. It was a place of discovery where once upon a time one could roam the fields and forest and observe nature in all of its glory. Sadly, it's all gone, terraformed by we humans in our quest to make planet Earth habitable for humans. I'm fortunate, I suppose, I have memories of what was......

A Leaf Fell

There was a time, one lazy summer day when still a youth, I went exploring.

I roamed through fields filled with golden grasses, and wildflowers.

I watched as butterflies flittered, bumblebees bumbled, and honey bees buzzed here and there.

Beyond the golden field a forest grew 

its darkness dampened sound, 

and from the top of a tall, old, tree, a leaf fell 

and drifted lazily towards the ground.

An errant breeze caught the leaf before it struck the ground,

and swept it high up in the sky where it caught the wind, 

and sailed away, an adventure just begun.

I wondered as it sailed away,

does a leaf, when it strikes the ground, 

make a sound?

I came upon a  path less worn

that travelled through the darkened wood.

I stood, wondering, then slowly ambled in.

It was quiet in the dark, dank, wood.

Not a sound.

I looked around, my eyes adjusting to the darkness in the wood,

and came upon sights I’d never seen.

Toadstools, moss, and ferns of every sort

lived deep within the dampness of this wood.

I got down on my hands and knees, and 

peered beneath the ferns.  Everything was tiny, a completely different world.

Snails, millipedes, spiders, and beetles, movement everywhere.

As I watched I wondered if those who lived within,

would hear a falling leaf as it struck the ground.

I continued down the path less worn leading deep within the wood, 

exploring, observing, listening,

until the crickets sang their evening song.

Doubting that I would ever go back, and wander down the path less worn,

I made a note, a memory kept, and stored away,

a reminder of a wondrous time, spent

one lazy summer’s day.

The Leaf

The leaf fluttered

in a growing breeze, 

and clung to the branch on which it was born. 

Once green, then red, and now

shades of brown.

Once live, and now dead.

Purpose served it held in place,

until the growing breeze became a force, and 

ripped the leaf from its branch, 

and sent it on a journey forlorn

to take its place on the forest floor

to serve a greater purpose, 

a mystery lost in time.