Near Miss 04/26/11

Still.
Calm.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
Stagnant summer night.
Close, waiting, motionless, deathlike.
Sudden wind gusts shatter the calmness, bend the trees low.
Rushing currents of air whistle, moan, and shriek loudly.
Then, suddenly, they stop again.
The storm’s slipped on by.
In its wake
New life
Has
Come.

©2011-Art Belliveau