Forest

CYCLE I: EARTH  
 
Forest  
 
In dawning of this morning wood profound,  
Release, the dripping dew through spreading limbs.  
Intoxicate, the fume of fertile ground,  
With open wings begin the morning hymns.  
To flight, they lift, in metered rhythmic strain,  
Their sounding cries that sing the gift of morn,  
In lively rills and pulse and shrills sustained,  
Then rising still before the mounting storm.  
But as the torrent’s rush engulfs the wood,  
And as the thunder breaks like cannon's burst,  
With shudders, Forest has the force withstood;  
With bending limbs, it takes full flood’s disburse.  
In slow sustain, the dawn storm rolls away,  
Both vale and wood washed at the start of day.  
 
April 5 - NaPoWriMo