After the Flood

When the animals come,
two by two.

And the robin sings of hope atop the mighty oak that still stands,
its hold in the earth unbroken.

A tiny fiddlehead peeks its way up through the still damp earth,
seeking to unfurl.

Water still rushes, but orderly now within its banks,
Never to flood again; never to fully dry.

The rainbow.
The promise.

The sun.

***
11 lines

Prompt: Please write a story or poem that has the title: "After the Flood"
Please select "Nature" as one of your genres!