Light misting of rain;
The air is clean, the trees green,
The clouds soft and gray.

Cones in the field;
Markers of yesterday's games;
High grass surrounds them.

A dark green morning;
The deer takes its time walking;
The woods are brimming.

The woods are so dark;
The sky is gray and pregnant;
The world is waiting.

Christmas ornaments
Still hanging from the mailbox
Concealed by high grass.

Hollow woodpecker
Competes with high pitched chirps;
Bird lands on the road.

Everything is still
Save the whisper of the brook
And the pesky bug.

Gray sky is waiting;
Soon it will open itself;
Its secret is when.