The Plot, The Feint

The forest sits languid and
sodden this late summer day
steaming and steadily dripping.
Dawn's twilight was freighted
with the urgency of thunder
roiling the sky occluded by
dark layers of cloud in a
conspiracy to transform the 
world into an aquatic landscape
of deep and mysterious origin.
By afternoon the sun had burned
its brief passage convincing the
atmosphere to relax its vigil
but this strategy to deceive
was soon unravelled when the
wind swept purple-rimmed 
clouds before the sun and wave
after wave of deep-throated
drumrolls rumbled, warning
the forest of more, much more
of the same to inundate its
placid belief in reasonable stasis.