Spring Day, Overcast

Brown oak leaves underfoot, last year's sodden

reminders that green will end someday. But
not today

while the creek, silent in summer, chortles
happily to itself, full of spring vigor
far below

the limestone bluff edge where
I stand, chert nodules and fractals
peeking through

springy new undergrowth, broke down
limbs, leaf litter and dark soil.  I came
for morels

too early, too chill yet. A day of sun
may bring them out. Early poke sallet and
mayapple

sprouts fool me, draw me to admire
meek plants: trillium, maidenhair fern,
spring beauty,

johnny jump-up and more whose names
I knew once but have forgotten. Alone
I don't need

names. Names mean nothing without
voices and other ears. I love the silence
I bring here.