Days of rain close in spaces
Shrink them
beyond recognition
Glaze them
with damp water colors
and translucent light.
Water soaks
deep into the earth,
Ponds around
pines, oaks, and maples,
Washes away
their fibrous underground grip,
Targets the
tallest, oldest trees,
Fells their crowns,
Upends their root circles.
Long,
loosened threads sway in the air,
Thin, string
fringes swing
From hoisted
mud clods,
Caked around
broken, thick roots,
leaving craters filled with muddy
water.
Fallen trunks
and their large branches
Scatter the
low light that travels close to the ground
As tree
canopies open to the sound of their swan songs
For a brief
illusion of light before the deep
Fog rolls in
and closes in the spaces
Among the
trees and along the surface
of the earth, shaken.
Waiting for
the passage of too many heavy clouds
And the slow
return of the sun that can shed light
On the vines
and saplings that will obscure
The oldest
and the tallest trees, brought down to earth
by days of rain.
©cmheuer, April, 2021
