In Honor of April being National Poetry Writing Month

The storm started in drips, in the dead of night
Water dappled on the wood of the trees with a
Then a distant roll of thunder–
Gently giving a nudge to those asleep in the ground.
By morning, a raking wind combed the knots out of the forest.
The trees stretched and yawned in the daylight,
Pushing up pops of green at their fingertips.
They shook and rustled their bark
And grew taller in the sun.
As night settles in again, the lightning returns in scattered pieces.
The air is filled with silent static as the sparks shimmer and glow.
The elusive owls call with their weighty voices
Carrying over the rhythmic croaks and twees on the ground.
They dare us to find them in the dark.

2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. dulzimordash
    Apr 18, 2013 @ 02:45:11

    Reblogged this on Nature’s Abhorred Vacuum.


  2. deborahbrasket
    Apr 21, 2013 @ 18:50:46

    Beautiful, so many lovely images.


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