Misty Ridge Musings

A lingering wind rustles the tree tops,
It is still below,
Silent but for the birds.
Leaves shine in the morning sun
Glistening with yesterday’s rain.

Dark-hearted clouds gathered,
Formed an angry mob lashing rain
All night, all day and into night again.
Now the sky is crystalline, unblemished.

A butterfly lingers on faded late-summer blossoms,
Dries its wings.
All gives lie to the raging storm,
Makes mockery of my fear.

Celebrates the glory
Of the morning after.