old trees

Morning

Rain falling through oak trees.
A crackle of thunder opened my eyes and grey rain fell in sheets through the trees, which were sometimes still and sometimes writhing.  Pebbles and disks of snow bounced to the ground, incongruous.

Tonight, a nearly full moon has risen through a clear sky and these same now-silent trees.  An owl of some kind is bleating with its mate in the dark, a sound new to us and strange.