Second Spring

A break in the grey canopy of heaven
Slanting light the colour and texture of honey
Dripping and pooling in the folds of waterlogged earth
Trails littered with leaves blown wildly
By autumns first big storms

After two weeks of wind, rain, worry
The faint autumn sun seems like an inferno
And I am running in shorts in defiance
Of the chill that lingers in the afternoon air.

Up and over and around Mount Doug, again
Pounding down trails so familiar they seem like family
Old friends that time does not trouble
Feet, this is your domain
Guide me through falls paradox

And then, where the slopes are open, rocky
And below, a farmers field makes for pastoral charm,
The Garry oaks cling to stone as children to a parents sleeve
Now adorned with acid green leaves
But this is November, friends, not May

It seems like magic, these vestiges of a forgotten season
Appearing now when it seems as if all the future held
Was darkening skies, earthbound torrents, bluster
Fits that bend bows, whipped waves into a fury

The cause, experts say, is the Oak leak Pyhlloxeran, a pest
That stripped these trees of leaves during summer past
Now a second spring for these twisted sentinels comes
A fleeting chance that will pass in a few weeks, a month
Reminds me that from any darkness a light can emerge.