Wissahickon Valley - Late Day Spring Hike

I lost my mind...

The late afternoon clock interrupts my anxious stream of thinking and reminds me the day is waning.

I spring into action!

As I descend into the Wissahickon Valley, a mood of nostalgia wraps my emotions like a warm blanket. I feel like a time traveler escaping the danger of the busy world—transported back to a simpler time and place. My first step anchors on the trail and opens a multitude of possibilities. The late-day sun hangs over my left shoulder, anticipating my arrival. My feet create a crackling noise with each step, crushing last autumn's leaves under the soles of my shoes. I hear the rapidly flowing river that seems to be moving faster from absorbing the recent influx of rain. A couple of gnats appeared in a beam of sun that made its way through the trees and disrupted my field of vision. They seem to be dancing in the heat of the early spring sun.
Suddenly, the wind rips through the tree tops, not to be outdone, and shifts the sun's rays.

Each sauntering step I take into this scene deepens my awareness—my worldly self dissolving as I move. I know I am touching the sublime deep inside where words disappear.

The trail beckons me more; I continue to unravel the mystery around each corner.
The wind swirls through again and causes an old tree to creak as if to groan from stiff bones. Decaying leaves rattle in my right ear, still hanging on to the dormant tree that set them free last season. They never severed their connection to descend to the forest floor and fulfill their destiny. Perhaps they thought things would turn out differently. Now, they serve as a reminder of autumn's unfinished business. Somehow, they are still perfect to me.

The early tree buds coloring green in the pre-twilight sun, waiting for their cue to transform into full bloom. Their green display contrasts against the thin brown and gray branches that crisscross each other and network together.

I feel serene sensations of coolness and warmness on my face as the contrasting temperatures merge in the valley. The cool air rising from the river below and the sun's heat meet and merge with the wind blowing against my face.
The birds seem to be cackling and singing in celebration to honor this spring sun before its nightly disappearing act.

Large broken tree branches appear to my left, slowly decaying with each passing season. Many years hence, they will merge into the soil as if they never existed. These words may be the only mention they ever receive and serve as a small in memorium to their fleeting existence.

My eyes take in the spectacle of the varying landscapes as the sun continues its dance—causing a banding effect across the forest floor, mixing as sun and shade across the dead leaves. The branches o'er head filter the sun and create a partial sunlight scene.

As I continue on my trail, I'm traversing March, a time when Winter and Spring winds collide and give birth to a powerful polarity for change and renewal.
A lone dove becomes visible on my path and pecks its beak into the soil for some unidentified morsel. I lose my mind...

Today, I lost my mind on the trail.
It was easier than I expected.
An ethereal calm came over my being.
I shall lose my mind more often.