After The Rain

After the rain driven relentlessly
by a mordantly incessant wind
unleashed its double fury on our
landscape, the clouds darkly
veiling the night-time sky
excused themselves as though
remorseful of the fury vented
unstintingly on the innocence below.

Whisked clear, the winds had
only their singular rants to rave
through the atmosphere, rippling
the detritus rudely left after winter's
departure, tearing fitfully through
the bareness of deciduous trees
awakening to the release of spring.

The woods are rank with upturned
sodden soil, the streams run full,
dark with clay particulates. The
shadows of crows flinging themselves
on the low ceiling of air above, cross
our path as the birds cackle and call,

settle, ruffle feathers and taunt the
season with the impermeability of
their raucously entitled presence.