THE CLEARING ALONG THE TRAIL TO THE RIVER At the onslaught of spring, when I was there for the first time -- along the trail to the river-- the clearing seemed to be under a siege of towering spears to foil the strike of solar legions; the ground (littered with leavings of wintry aggression) cracked underfoot when trod upon, while gusty talons sounded the shields, but thwarted--withdrew, to quicken their probing resolve. At the first breath of another spring I returned to the clearing-- the one along the trail to the river -- and everything is the same: sunbeams play on crystals of pine, (their glory only magnified by arbored absorption) to woo a lover's boon from pliant earth; greening probes of promise--from their carpeted cradle emerge-- to quicken their noble resolve.