One hundred stood shading;
tall, trusting, thriving trees
till the heavens opened
their mouth like a multitude of
mottled black humpback whales;
spouting, raging upon earth.
Pounding, pounding, pounding
huge, hungry, hurtful torrents
of rain racing and running past
and though my hundred; blood
flowing in the earth rooted vain
landscapes now lapping at once
study, towering trunks with bark
oozing crying like a child in need
of comfort. But there was no one
who could aid in their clamity
for disaster had done its deed.
Thick husky trunks wore water
boots which would be their last
apparel, as dragon flies frolicked
upon the surface of a newly
birthed pond where once seedling
grew and thrived in rich woodland
that canopied my sunny back yard.
Water still flows… now from my eyes.
“God is our refuge and strength, a very ready help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth shakes and the mountains slip into the heart of the sea; Though its waters roar and foam, Though the mountains quake at its swelling pride.”Psalm 46:1-3