The Forest Sleeps

 

All is still. Little wind rustles the leaves of the 

forest canopy. A large feathered head swivels

eyes fixed here, then there, alert for rustling

as the raptor waits. The crows that harass it

mobbing and chorusing their hatred sleep. All

is still. No daytime sounds intrude as the forest

sleeps, its trees deep in slumber as it begins the

inevitable transition into fall. The bright eyes of

raccoons quietly search the stream undulating

through the forest for aquatic mollusks, their

clever hands selecting morsels now and again

attest to the sleeping forest that does not rest. In

their dens foxes sleep but coyotes prowl in their

nocturnal search for prey. Small furred creatures

do not venture from their nested dens, oblivious

in sleep. Nuthatches and chickadees whisper and

fluff their feathers renewing energy for another day.

Nighthawks circling on high whistle their mission.