Bruise grey clouds hung threateningly,
Pushing the orange sunset over the horizon.
Thunder growled over the distant sea.
Lightening illuminated the horizon.

In the forest I waited.
Animals crouched attentively;
Stopped foraging;
glanced about them warily.
A blackbird’s melody pierced the electric silence.
I sat and waited.

A breeze whispered uneasily through the leaves.
A slow pitter-pat intensified the stressful whispered message.
A rising wind fitfully blew the complaining boughs.
The pitter-pat became a drumming.
I sat, engulfed by the cacophony,
And waited.

The bru-ha-ha gradually died away.
I still sat on, chilled and bruised.

At the edge of the forest, I stood on the wet grass
And bathed in the moon’s cold radiance.

© Barry Fox