After the April rain

After the April rain
with the woods still steaming
I stole some time away.

Silence
save the drip of silver from each leaf,
the slow steam pressure of the rising sap,
the soft hydraulic hiss of leaves
unfurling in the blades of evening light.

Birdsong bubbles in the air.
Bluebells perfume the stillness.
An owl begins to tune his call.

A white curl of moon emerges as
the blue sky thins to black.

Distant cumulonimbus mountains
slip beyond the curve of night
flickering now and then in a spasm
of summer dreams.

(c) A McN