Outdoor writing contest: After it Stops Raining

Your footsteps

are a silent

squish,

against the forest floor.

Damp

from drips, sliding

off brittle

branches. A gray

sky

obscures the soft light

but

not enough to

get rid

of the watery

sunlight.

Shining through trees whose

skeletal

limbs aren’t strong

enough to

support a blue

bird’s

nest. You shiver. It

smells

of rain after

it’s left.

The silent setting

still,

in its wake. The

crisp

air clings to

your exposed

skin. Maybe today

wasn’t

the right day to

wear

a thin T-shirt