Yesterday’s wind pushed on by the cold front moving through
Changed the character of the woods I walk through every day.
The dirt road leading from the paved one to the reservoir
is quiet now,
Devoid of utility trucks
Or wild youth on dirt bikes
Or dog walkers like me.
I know these woods well,
Once a place of beauty,
Now spoiled by human touch.
A plastic Pepsi bottle rests in the muddy runoff from yesterday’s storm.
A worn orange sofa missing one cushion
is toppled on its side.
A piece of broken white plastic pipe sits on the path that veers off to the right.
Yesterday a navy blue t-shirt lay in a heap by the Pepsi bottle.
Today it’s gone.
Mystery lingers here in the woods.
Minuscule changes in nature have occurred since yesterday’s storm,
Changes not human.
A branch, alive yesterday, clinging to the strength of the tree trunk,
Rests today loose on the ground, leaves drying.
Above it, a curly strip of birch bark is wrapped incongruously around
A pine branch,
Wind driven, now isolated, detached where once it had a purpose.
Chipmunk holes open up to the cool morning air.
Life underground and above ground continues along its own path.
Changes came in on yesterday’s wind
And the woods are not the same,
Familiar yet not,
Like the daily flow of one’s life.
© Barbara Flass 2011