One Morning's Arrival

By Luke Rook

The gale of the wind with the reaching canopy of the weeping willow

A drizzle of rain in the mist of a sun shower on a bright and darkened day

The sky cannot decide whether or not to fly like the leaves on the branches of the trees blow

The whisper of thunder flies fast across the hills and plains and forests and rolls with the clouds faraway

The wet earth and shining beads of the storm the hours before glistening in the green blades

A stream quickly flowing loud with its course passing the hills and forest throughout

The birds begin to meet in number as they prepare for the day's hunt for the worms awash in rain

The creatures of the wilderness search their garden home to wander on their tasks beneath the drifting clouds

Eyes opening for the first time in nests and dens as the children of the wood begin to come to age

Mothers feeding them from the life that is planted in the soil by the spirited craft of invisibility

Like the planting of the forests was the harvest of the tilled pastures of planted grain

Smoke rising from chimneys to travel into the gray of the low clouds that gave themselves to the seeds

Ships enter harbors from lands bringing goods and fowl from foreign shore to foreign shore

The cities the people came from are unloaded to be set in new places on new ground

The bustles of their mingling speaks like greetings as the cool of morning begins to grow warm

They put bricks in their roads and gather trees for their homes as the docking planks set down