Portrait Of A Day, Mount Holly #2

When there's no sound of singing birds         

During morning's early light.

The forest sits eerily still,

With lack of busy chatter,

From chipmunks, squirrels and such.

As senses search, dew laden thickets, 

Not one rustle, peep nor flutter found.
Today, there's lack of early day magic,

In the deepest of Vermont woods.

Lifeless trees stand motionless

Mirroring the stance of wooden statues.

Once vibrant white cotton ball billowed clouds

Are painted gray with a varying blur of color

Such as pewter, slate and steel.

All a portrayal of Nature's warning

Of imminent danger like the 

Storms which are a-brewing.

Fear not, all here have weathered

Such conditions, prior.

And today shall be no different.

Once it makes it's presence known

And then continues on, 

The air then clean and revitalized

After an hour or two of summer's 

Often not so gentle rain. 

Blue skies shall once again

Reign overhead.

Blazing Rays of sunshine's appearance

Will create humidity along with

Sparkling prisms upon the edges

Of dripping leaves 

On saplings, brush, birches

And all those evergreens.

Bird solos return and echo, 

As the forest's undergrowth 

Once again, comes to life 

With hectic sounds of busyness.

The bees will be a-buzzing

Upon each blossomed flower.

Deep woods normalcy again restored.

And we, the humans that came here

For relaxation and to revel

In Mother nature's warm embrace. 

Are awakened to a knowledge. 

No matter what transpires

Our souls relentlessly continue

Soaring free, from everyday stressors. 

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