(no subject)

Mother Oak

The air is still
Unusually quiet
Even greedy baby birds
Hold their breath
The scent of rain
Lingers teasingly
The clouds gather
Low and heavy
Full of promise
But still holding back
In the distance
Thunder faintly rumbles
A squirrel leaps
From branch
To branch
Eager to find
Her safe haven
At last, the cool breeze
Caresses branches
Like a lost love
The leaves rustle
In approval
As the first drops
Fall