Rainfall 

These old woods have gotten quiet
Darkened by clouds that won’t crack 
Silenced by a muffling blanket
Invisible but felt
Heavy and oppressive

Rainfall is long overdue
Drought is spreading beneath the canopy
Branches bend in the increasing wind
Into little smiles beckoning outsiders 

It still looks green from a distance 
But the familiar birdsong
And even the quiet droning of insects
Are fading more by the day
There’s little food left
What life still persists is withering 

Animals kneel as if praying for a rain dancer
I fear that if one isn’t found
A misplaced spark from one dry lightning storm
Will ignite the dried husks
And a wicked wildfire will spell
The end of these desiccated cedars

.

May 6, 2025