Fiddlesticks Luke

The Forest Floor

Trudging through the forest at dawn
In the midst of brand new life
The natural world
All celebrating
The arrival of Spring
Winter’s dormant buds
Now blossoming
In the palest pinks
While all around me
Tiny leaves are unfolding
In brighter shades of green
Beautifully contrasting
With the decaying color
Of muddy brown at my feet
Standing still, to ponder
The steadfastness of ancient trees
Whose little children
Are just beginning their life
Delicate little seedlings
Sheltered beneath the forest’s canopy
Protected from the worst storms
And the torrent
Of thunder and lightning
But also, shadowed
From the sunlight
They desperately seek
Struggling just to stay put
In the puddles of muddy earth
That threaten their crowded world
Of greens and browns and golds
Down on the forest floor
Where majestic old trees
Are rooted and flourishing
Towering high above them
And suddenly, the fragility
Of this new growth
Has become so apparent
Their challenge to survive
Amidst these daunting giants
Barely clinging to life
With no certainty of ever reaching
The same old age and height
As the ancient ones
Or of ever feeling the sunlight
In the skies above them
Though they still try
With all their might
Because, that is quite simply
What they were always meant to do