The air is light, dry and dusty. The heat it’s carrying hasn’t quite snuffed out the life of the forest creatures, but has successfully managed to kill the liveliness in the forest.  The skies are clear of the birds and butterflies, insects firmly perched under the dry brown branches or underground and others survive by finding the last bit of shade under the trunk or rock.  The trees have shed all their lives as the parched land can support them no more.  There is no wind to rustle the leaves or soothe a warm soul, the heat muting even the crickets and cicadas.  It’s a quiet, still forest.

Rain can be their only salvation.  Only its water can bring both life and liveliness back to the forest.  For some reason though, the rain gods aren’t yet pleased and haven’t blessed the forest with its showers.  They are unhappy or at the least, unattentive.

Only the trees can appease the gods.  And they do that by putting on a last desperate attempt to get the attention of the elements.  With the last of their energy reserves, the last ounce of their strength, the trees put on a show!  It’s a collective effort from all trees from all parts of the forest to put on a colourful display.  The silk cotton tree bursts into shades of orange and red, the jacaranda blooms in shades of blue, the copper pod in shades of yellow – the forest is transformed into an ocean of vivid colours.  Living on their last breath, they put on this spectacular show for a chance to dance in the rain.

This show has, of course, corrupted the gods who wait for such a show before their gaze turns toward this forest.  They expect a grander show each passing year and the trees do their best to appease.  Most years they do.  This year – well this year – the sky in the horizon is turning into shades of grey from their usual blinding white.  A shade of grey that can only come from bountiful clouds, bringing with them: hope.  Hope for the forest, and its creatures, to burst into life for another year.