A Dousing Storm

The sky, heavy with clouds, some
slate-dark, others silver-white and
gossamer-threaded, afloat in a vast
ocean of blue, did not appear as
particularly threatening, but rather
as an invitation to venture under its
offerings of both sun and shade,
breeze-moderated and pleasant.

Spruce and pine have released their
sappy gum loaded into their late
summer dropped cones. Foraging
forest creatures have begun the ritual
of fall storage, shuttling seeds into
sustaining caches long before winter
hints at its inevitable arrival.

Water striders and dragonflies
skate the surface of the ravine's
heat-diminished creek. A brilliant
red streak slips among hemlock
branches as a cardinal's high, sweet
pitch is heard. Cue for a long, sullen
rolling threat from above as the blue
is suddenly consumed by a mass
of darkly-banked clouds.

Lightning streaks across the
landscape, and concerned gazes
turn skyward, shrug as the mass
moves off imperiously, sparing the
forest, and us, as dimmer echoes
of thunder drift their intent elsewhere
down the long forested valley.

Sunlight returns to send its brilliant
shafts to illuminate jewel weed and
asters, goldenrod and fleabane. A
woodpecker's staccato thrumming
punctuates the voices of chickadees
and nuthatches. Sudden wind-shifts
haul back dense clouds and darkness
overcomes as thunder overhead heralds
the imminence of a dousing storm.