TREES.

The trees

stand tall

in the storm that is

mourning

an old tune from

an old accordion.

Nothing comes out of

the darkness by my old

hands,

shaking like a leaf,

as I batten down the hatches

and make sure the

shed is secure.

I walk like a lotus

to the back door

and open the front door

to my house

and go in.

I pause a moment

reveling in the storm

as nature reveals

its innermost fury

shaking

sobbing

trying to catch hold

of its prey.

Its mouth is its only savior.