Listen To the Trees

Listen to the trees… how dark their voices in the moonless night-- unnerving shades that only today were bright, green, sunny things; and now their quivering leaves, remind me more of scarecrow sleeves, nearby not a bird would light unless he were a terrible sight. Listen to the wind… storm voice near the distant eye-- Listen! Listen! Listen! Such a thunderous cry! There!--the last ray of sunlight gone, in a fester of billowing clouds; with the last quiet moment, in a splatter of furious sounds; down the torrent upon us the wind like sickles and mowing blades; Listen! Listen! Listen!--to the trees now toppling shades. Yet, in the midst of all madness-- the air, a hornet of frantic leaves; wind tugging at our garments, flapping and fluttering like scarecrow sleeves-- a quiet comes over us; halfway through passes a silent eye; blesses us with a peaceful moment; reassuringly winks good-bye….