For now, it is quiet and gray and drizzling outside. The trees are vibrant, swaying softly back and forth in their fancy autumn gowns. The trees are like dancers, currently subdued but unable to suppress some of their trembling as they wait in quiet anticipation for the curtain to lift, cuing their performance to begin. The trees are like dancers, tall and graceful, strong and proud, built to shake and undulate to the sounds of breezes lifting and swirling their colorful leaves throughout and below, and by the percussion of raindrops tap-tap-tapping from all around and above.
For now, they are subdued, quietly imagining their upcoming show, excited and jittery as they look forward to the release of pent-up energies collected from the sun in the dull days and weeks and months standing silent and still during the long days of summer.
For now, the trees are subdued but itching to dance, yearning to finally perform in all of their glorious autumn splendor. They are subdued because they have no reason to think they should panic.
These dancers imagine a graceful rustling waltz to an elegant symphony of falling raindrops and chilly breezes, with perhaps a hint of ominous thunder rumbling from a safe distance away.
They are currently unaware that they will instead be forced to struggle to a cacophony of wreckage and destruction. Their gorgeous gowns will be savagely ripped away leaf by leaf. Many of them will lose limbs and appendages. For some, this may be their very last dance as their feet are torn out from underneath them and they are tossed aside in shambles. The predictions are hours and hours of intense storming, one of the worst storms our area has seen in years.
The surviving trees will again be subdued once everything has settled and they survey the wreckage around them, but it will be different for them. Instead of quietly holding themselves back, as they are now before the storm, they will stand quiet and contemplative. They will shed the remaining ragged bits of their autumn costumes and stand naked and depressed until the winter snow blankets them. Then they will sleep away the trauma and heartache until springtime arrives to awaken and rejuvenate them.
For now, they are waiting but have no idea what they are really waiting for.