Write a poem about the rain in the woods.

Course is the rain that pulls the teeth of mountains down.
Pure and dark it collides
The sky delivers the sea to earth.
A frenzy of trees sway in defense.
So they stand: silent obelisks pushing their weight into roots.
But rain is infinite and it is messy,
Outside, mud mutes the distance into drowsy browns.
Puddles share staccato songs with themselves
as they gather raindrops in wet holes.

Through the brave lungs of the rock now pour the silent wet.
Rain does not bleed from wounds or wet punctures.
Rain digs and curls without brain.
The trees lean into a rotting retreat with no whimpering.
The clouds scowl with misery as their crown sails the sky.
The drowning push of the moon.

And this is when it reaches the beginning again,
with nothing moving.
the sun returns.

And Strong is the light that releases pain from stones.
The boulders roll,
shedding their drowsiness
-a series of crashes no one hears.
Somehow, disaster folds with gentle strokes,
brewing the breath back to the mountains.