Before The Storm Poem by Ian Bowen

It was one of those moments
when nothing moved.
Silence held its breath,
and any sign of a breeze
had been sent to bed with no supper.
In the static-still, pond waters,
flesh, fish and bone,
hid under rock and stone.
Birds found the biggest trees,
dug in their claw-like heels,
forgot all about... their wormy meals.
Deep in underground holes,
rabbits, foxes, stoats and moles
closed their eyes
as if in hibernation mode...

waiting for the mother lode.