Reprieve

In the deepening gloom of the
early evening, in the absence of wind
a leaf detaches from a poplar and
languidly descends to the forest floor.
There is no one to marvel at the blush
peach shade of the leaf, limned in
yellow and green, a brief masterpiece
of nature's fall palette. But fall is
nowhere on the near horizon, this is
still midsummer. Drought has
parched the forest. In the muted greens
that prevail, the bright berries of 
honeysuckle shrubs and dogwood in
the understory glance off the gathering
twilight, invitations to birds settling
into nightfall branches, sweetly
chattering. The rainfall that broke
the long dry interval between lush
early summer growth and the 
woodland ravine's creek evaporation
into the hot atmosphere of summer
has left jewelweed absent its floral
jewels, transferring the bright orange
to dead needles on spruce and firs. 
Foliage still dripping from the deluge,
the waterway now surges, rippling with
clay dredged up from its bottom, good
news for the sparse aquatic life that make
their home within its unproductive 
presence, yet haven to cattusfly larvae
nestling within foliage castoffs. Rain
has pooled on the forest floor where
pestilential biters will lay their eggs.
The copious rainfall has rescued the
forest from dessication; ferns can once
again unfurl, asters bloom, treeroots
find sources of irrigation and the
unseasonal appearance of turning
foliage reverse the verdant glow the
forest is far more comfortable with.