All night the rain fell, and fell again,
sweeping away bark and insects and layers of topsoil
as it wound its way down the range
pounding through the Beach and the aged Elms
swerving past the deep layers of brown, fragrant pine needle
decayed humus and Mountain Laurel
The torrent quickening my own breath when
full of sleep, I did awaken
the roof a cacophony of rainsong, the gutters shuddering
with the flow of waters, sweeping cross the lawn and
down into the herb gardens, then past as it spilled into
rolling conservation fields, hastening along the steep descent
through dark speckled River Birch and deep purple Elder
on through rocky ravines
roaring among stagnant outwaters
where rise up young duck , goose, turtle
racing past the hard won hand made train buttress
clearing the murky stream waters
furiously sped down to the anticipating Connecticut
all of a dither, pouring out into the
swollen river, current perilous
beavers and wildlife pulled far into the riverbeds
out of the way of such frantic waters
down in underbrush, nestled neath roots and rock
fish hunkered down, marking time
groupings in havens, beneath the drumming rain
small gills moving silently, clustered politely
in small eddies, tiny river basins
waiting out the storm
Out my window, I lay upon my pillow
neck craned back, sight upon open window
as trees bowed low, flashing their underleaves
in the massive night air, the moon obscured by
heavy momentous skies,
my night sight locked upon
tall elms pulled this way and that by the
riotous winds, as the Pine swished
its sleek storm song
as Birches swayed with
penetrating agility
the mountain lands washed clean
The insects perched beneath any leaf in a storm
until the next morning
when I emerged
the land quiet as a mouse
the grasses sparkling in the brief sun lights
herbs filled with small winged and legged beings
Dampened or downright sodden
waiting for the warm and light
enable them to be mobile again,
to blink their eyes,
come through that storm,
and wander off for breakfast.
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