Whispering, I part morning’s pewter mist
Weaving silently through pine and fir
Notes of spruce upon my hurried breath
As desperate gasps announce autumn’s northern race
Restlessly I carry muted maple hues
As clouds sail my gun-metal sky
Passing colours to river’s grasp
In it’s hurried search for the bay
A collar is turned to my icy caress
As the paddle draws time closer
Parting reeds and rushes, I gather speed
Where granite narrows channel my final descent
Forest unfettered, I am set free
To add my dying breath to winter’s newborn chorus
Scattered and spent I embrace the lowlands
Drifting over the wilderness as would a Lightfoot melody…
(anonymous)
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("the river is the melody, the sky is the refrain")
Wow reminded me that it is ages since our resident graphic Designer (Zoneranger) submitted any more of his great creations , amongst which were the amazingly prescient and now most topical "northwind"
which might well have been a
leading possibly to a
Northwind
