The Deep Wood

The woods are dark and menacing this afternoon,
The branches tangle like hearty roots,
They twist sensually around one another,
Like snakes in the throes of passion.
The humidity,
And the sun,
Blaze.
The pressure seems low, the air is still,
Ominous.
Surely what the heavens have in store,
Is strong.
The leaves crunch, yet no creature is afoot.
Methinks I heard an owl hoot,
As the clouds start to roll in.
Then, they roll back out.
The day will go on,
Without a storm.
The air is still, yet calm.
The branches don’t seem so ominous now,
They are sensual,
Not severe.
Deep in my heart,
I know,
That somewhere,
Deep in this wood,
Sits an owl,
In the throes of passion.