This poem came about when we finally got some serious rain, ending months of drought, fire, heat domes. Somehow it turned into an exercise in alliteration. 

            Instead of reading it silently, try rolling the words around on your tongue, See if it makes any difference. 

Moisture seeps into the soil. 

Invisible fungi wrap filaments around roots

that thread through the dry debris

of former life; they suck sustenance

back into the synapses of the forest floor. 

The green fuse lights; sap creeps into

 capillaries long closed for self-defence.

Tree tops wave triumphantly.