The sky is still dark,
A cool breeze blows in.
Turning it colors,
Black to blue, orange and red.
Birds call across the forest,
Crickets sing their last songs,
They all know it’s coming,
The arrival of dawn.
Then the sky shines in white,
Then yellow through the trees,
It’s the beginning of a morning,
Another day to be free.
It’s blows in loud, a thunderous roar.
A wall of clouds glides across the water.
The wind, whipping, stirring, breaking,
The sky opens up, and it begins to pour.
The rich, soft soil, it turns dark,
Trees stand at attention,
Soaking up every drop.
The heat breaks and cools the sweat on my skin.
I taste the sweet, salty air on my tongue.
The humidity rises again,
It’s oppressiveness familiar.
It’s time to go outside,
And feel that warm pressure soar,
I’ll stand on the rooftop to watch the ocean churn,
As there is nothing quite like the thrill of a Lowcountry storm.
Peck peck peck
Red on their heads
The troops move in
The trees shake with dread.
They’re loud!
Like a mallet, banging on the wood,
But like everything else in nature,
The cycle must continue, to be good.
It’s still so hot, humid, stifling.
Light cracks through a dark blue sky.
They call, announcing the day.
Waking the warmth.
A small breeze sets in,
Imagine, it’s the coolest part of the day!
For a strong summer sun
Rises over the water
Setting all afire
Waking the warmth.
I hear the blast of a pistol, shooting at some creature unknown.
The crickets don’t flinch, they continue their song.
The black has covered everything, trees dripping in sultry, sweet tar.
An owl calls in the night.
A fox screams in lonely fright.
And the night begins in the swamp.
