The Language of Summer Storms

Clouds are turning down 
light at the doomed entrance 
of power. Trees bend and sway
losing the easy grace of heavy 
branches, becoming restless
motion at the wind's
murmured then shouted 
commands. 

Leaves answer fluttering 
and ending with 
a burst of harsh, rattling 
sounds. Is it surrender 
or letting go to stand 
in this seasoned essence 
of water and storm? 

Maybe both, if Trees love 
the soak of rain, the push of
wind, the up close 
colors of sheltering birds, 
the feel of a clutch 
of claws and being
inches from the wild, 
brown eye of a squirrel 
climbing you.