The trees are green,
the ground is wet,
the sea looks dark and angry, yet
quite lovely with its
pounding waves and wind-tossed foam.
Mountains lift their green-tressed heads
into shrouds of dark grey clouds
which move before the post-storm breeze,
The air is crisp tho’ moisture-laden
as the threat of further rain subsides.
Seagulls seek their sustenance ashore
being too wise in weather lore
to return to sea ’til the storm has passed,
the wind has ceased, the surf has calmed,
and the sun is out once more.
– Joe Gould
