Incipient

The clouds ragged, dark grey
give promise of more rain.
Mist hangs in the distance
where the mountain stream
spews off the granite slopes.
The forest is draped in humidity
and thick layers of rich moss
emboss the forest floor alongside
elegant curlicues of silvery-white
lichen. Already, the dogwood
understory hoists red flags 
for fall. The creek tumbles
and spews over boulders
lining its watercourse, tossed
there in an upheaval when
the mountain shuddered
millenniums past. Birds are
silent, as though awaiting the
inevitable downpour from the
bleak, wind-scudding clouds.