Read a poem
by Summer Ross
Thunder kisses the clouds in wake,
silence curves along thick bare trunks,
creeping within all the small crevices.
Rain has come to drown them slowly,
the crushed leaves of forgotten elms.
They sleep as wispy mist blankets,
whisper the promise of coming winter.
A deep breath, the wind joins in the chill.
Slumbered leaves crawl over one another.
Lightning flashes, then nothing.
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