Calm

The moon is almost full and the night is full of shimmering. The oaks and pines gleam and the sharp shadows lie exposed on all they touch. There is barely any movement to the cool air. The town has fallen silent. Night could hardly be more placid. The forest feels as though it were holding its breath before the onset of autumn's storms. And oh, please let there be storms! I want the rain again, and the wind, and even the thunder and lightning. I want the leaves to turn red and yellow and then go dancing along the streets, driven by great gusts. The calm is nice, but let it be the calm before, not merely calm alone.