This morning stretches quiet before me.
Now a scrub jay lands on our patio roof.
I listen to clouds bump together in this early morning;
The buzz of a motorbike hums through morning quiet,
Then birdsong returns
Out of what majestic sense of nature
Did we ever begin to understand storms?
Immense clouds building up,
explained as swirling high pressure/low pressure patterns,
Rumbling skies numbered and reduced to temperature.
No wind here, the leaves hang still,
Almost waiting, almost as if they were another illusion,
Cherry leaves covering ripe fruit,
Aspen leaves that tremble in the slightest sigh of wind,
Just a few of their early summer leaves already yellow,
Already falling to the ground.
by bluenorther101
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