There were whispers on this hot summer night.
Whispers that seemed to come from beyond the pines and palmettos. Almost like a dream, floating on sugary air. Night birds listened quietly. Even frogs ceased their choruses to pay attention. The forest, universal mother to us all, spoke secrets to those who listened. An owl flew in silence past an opalescent half-moon and waves splashed softly on the bay’s rough shoreline.
A large gray cat named Hilda, prowled my patio, watching for things that move in the night. Her lovely green eyes glowed in the glare of my flashlight as I walked towards the house. Something large thrashed in the underbrush. I hurried on. Suddenly, birds and crickets resumed their normal communications and the night was no longer quiet. Whispers became quick summer breezes.
That evening, I fell asleep on the porch. Nocturnal creatures roamed through my head until I awoke with a start. Several pairs of eyes stared at me through the porch screens. Moonlight danced upon fern and flower, rippling like water. Was this part of the dream? Or was I awake?
Hilda sat on the steps, watching. A mist fell over the yard and woods beyond. Shadowy figures wandered about, as if lost.
I sat up and felt around for my flashlight. Hopefully, my imagination was just running wild and there were no intruders around. Wild hogs ran my neighborhood sometimes, tearing up lawns and gardens. There were always raccoons and opossums, occasionally a bear.
My flashlight revealed nothing unusual. I got up to go back in the house, when something struck me as odd.
A far-off sound, a deep rumble, almost a growl. The world became still again as whispers spoke softly from the forest. I waited. Then, sleep overcame me and I went in to bed. When morning came, it broke violently through the dark. Lightning shot through the earth and thunder blasted it’s way through skies. A downpour began. Eaves became waterfalls, trees twisting in a macabre dance. Waterspouts slithered from clouds, churning the sea.
The forest speaks. When birds and frogs become quiet, when crickets do not sing, when the whispers begin. Now and for evermore, I will listen.
