Spring Smoke

Snow under the tunnel of elms.  Froth on water tumbling down Wascana Creek.  Fuzz on tree branches sleep-singing of spring.  Air feathered with birdsong:  the sharp clear call of red-wing blackbirds, their throaty trills; the sonata of robins; the time-keeping dee dee dee of chickadees; the chittering of bohemian waxwings.  Conversations with strangers about the weather.  Frost on windshields.  Rants with friends about the weather.  Clusters of cat noseprints on glass; a winter of watching birds at the feeder.   Flutter of  shucked millet.  Early morning fog on the birder's binoculars.  Foggy breath of dogs chasing frisbees.  Cat pawprints on tree bark; the upward flurry of birds.  Beads of stars and ice strung on time.  The air under a bicycle's tire as it launches off the curb.  Snow mould like mohair.  Silent thunderheads at four, as the winter's snow flies into cloud.  Birdseed turning to translucent eggshells. The sluice and rustle of rising water.


This is a photograph I took last night during my first spring-time walk along the banks of Wascana Creek.  You can see the normal shore in the rushes at the bottom of the picture.