A Coming Storm
Thunder! The storm clouds gather.
A grosbeak valiantly circles overhead.
When this journey began, my hope was painted against an azure sky when the sun was high and the scent of pine and meadow flowers copiously filled the air.
Many times I have stood at the forest’s edge and let the sweetness and magic of its promise draw me in.
But, today, I hear distant drums heralding a coming storm, it marches across the glen. Have I languished too long? Will my peaceful tranquility feel the coldness of its blade?
My pace quickens, not outward but inward to the sanctuary of the camaraderie of the woods.
Briefly, the path is sprinkled with dabbled sunlight that spotlights a yellow-black spider spinning its web between milkweeds. ...