A Winter's Walk

Now that we are in the midst of winter, it seems appropriate to post another poem by my younger brother Robert DeStefano, a retired high school science teacher and a lifelong naturalist who has published a number of his poems and other writings on Amazon. I append his explanation.

A Winter’s Walk

 

up

 before sunrise

like 

a child on Christmas Eve

anxiously

waiting to see

what awaits

me

owls are still

 hooting

hoping to scare a mouse

out of hiding

light rays appear

and

reveal most trees 

have shed their

 leaves

except for

beech trees leaves 

that will

hang on until

spring

I

begin my walk

light illuminates

the green feather-like fronds

of

the Christmas Fern

winter is the time for

this evergreen

to show off its beauty

as all around

 it is

brown

hoar frost glistens

on 

delicate evergreen pine tree needles

they 

defy the

 cold

sway in the

 wind

and

 perfume

 the frigid air

a giant sycamore tree beckons

me

a ghostly sight

eerily white

has shed its outer bark

to remove harmful boring beetles

an icy pond

radiantly reflects sunlight

ducks bob up and down

in a small 

ice-free patch

startled by me

they quack

they fly

 circle the pond

provide

a dazzling display

of color

and as

 light reflects off their feathers

they

wave

 goodbye

A Winter’s Walk

Whenever I go to my little log cabin in New Marlborough, Massachusetts, in late fall or winter, I know I have to be prepared to expect the unexpected.  I have encountered porcupines sleeping just outside the back door to the cabin.  I use a shovel to place the porcupine in a wheelbarrow and move it to the forest, only to have it reappear the next day.     I have had to deal with red squirrels packing Norway Spruce cones between the rafters of the dirt floor cellar for winter food.  They know not to place the cones on the floor because once the thaw arrives, there will be about 12 inches of water in the cellar that will ruin the remaining cones.  In short, I never know what to expect as the cabin is in a remote area with my closest year-round neighbor about three miles away.   I start the wood-burning stove and try to get the cabin to about 65 degrees before nightfall.   I get up early, at least two hours before dawn, add wood to the fire, get dressed, and patiently wait for sunrise.

I once found a book being discarded by a library titled “One Day on Beetle Rock” by Sally Carrighar when I had just returned from the Army in 1972.  The book caught my eye because there was an image of a squirrel on the cover.  When I saw the title on the inside of the book, I almost put it back until I read the first two lines of the book.  They read, “The water of the brook reflected the sunlight up to an alder branch, where it flickered along the gray bark. On the fool’s gold under the ripples lay a web of sunlight, gently shaken.”   I could not stop reading the book.  I realized that Sally Carrighar possessed a gift for observation as well as being able to describe with impeccable detail the events that occur in nature.  One seems as though they are actually in Sequoia National Park, where nine animals are interacting with nature and each other during one day on Beetle Rock.  I have always loved nature, but her book made me realize that I had to use all my senses when walking in nature because there is so much to be seen, heard, smelled, touched, and even occasionally tasted when one gets into “the woods.”

My poem depicts a typical winter’s day for me at the log cabin and the surrounding woods.  I am very fortunate to be in an area scarcely touched by humans.  To me, as a former science teacher and Botanist, the property is like my personal outdoor laboratory.  There is so much happening during every season of the year; however, it requires childlike eyes and a childlike mind to appreciate it all.  

Yes, the Christmas Fern has a story to tell.  How does it survive the freezing temperatures?  Yes, the Sycamore trees have a story to tell.  How did they evolve to shed their bark to avoid insect damage? Yes, the pond has a story to tell. How was it formed, and why is it so important for so many species that live in or near it? I will attempt to answer these questions with future poems and stories. 

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