Storm

Storm

Clouds,gray and heavy
Hang low in the sky
Touching the trees tops
With their billowing mists
A storm approaches

Trees shudder and tremble
Swaying rhythmically in the wind
While dreaming their melodious daylight dreams
Earth's eternal dance

Lush verdant-green leaves,
Whisper of warm summers days
Filtered with golden light
And gently scented breezes

Awake now, from their dark otherworldly visions
They whisper,sweet and low of the coming storm
Sorrowing, moans fill the blusterous air
As wind swept branches
turn down their shinning leaves
And bow in submission,
Bow to the coming of natures fury

3WW

Night Magic


Magic seemed to pulsate
from deep within the dense forest.
Magic that could be felt
in the cold north wind.
Magic that could be seen
in shadowy forms hidden beneath
the moss covered trees.

The dark blue green trees
swayed as if,
Alive
While
Repeatedly,
the call of the night bird rang out
It's sound shrill and heavy
full of menace.

She stopped and listened
as the night bird called again.
Low and mournful
She would not admit her fear
nor how the cold made her tremble.

Forty years had come and gone.
Forty years,
and still they whispered.
Behind locked doors
Whispered in the dead of night.

Whispered of another time
when fear was a part of living.
Fear
Fear fed upon fear
until
none dared enter the forest


Mists came,
rising slowly in the darkness.
Creeping up and around her.
She now was fully engulfed in the wet icy
fingers of shadows.
Fear pervaded her being.
Her mind numb
Her body powerless
She faded within the mist.
As had the other, forty years ago.