I
kept watch at my bedroom window, looking for signs of wind strength.
The
old trees in the park across the street
with
their 100 year old
thick
trunks limbs
deep
roots
will
not bend.
Strong
winds could break them.
Please
don't let them break I whispered.
They
are too regal to let them break.
In
front and to the side of the house is
a
birch tree
with
green-yellow leaves
white
peeling bark
young
and slender.
I
watch, waiting to see how far it bends.
Thunder
lightening wind rain
all
splatter against my window.
It
grows darker darker
clouds
cannot be picked out in the sky
where
everything is gray.
Electrical
wires sway violently
the
birch begins to bow
lower
lower
branches
sweep the ground
leaves
fly away
dancing
in the air
pushed
along
sticking
to my porch roof
the
street below
the
windows of the house next door.
The
wind is angry now
beating
the birch
hoping
for submission
but
the birch only bows,
takes
a breath,
and
stands up again.
No comments:
Post a Comment