(no subject)
Watching
Sitting on the porch out back, I blankly stare.
The trees are there, like pillars of time,
The brilliant green of the grass protruding,
Up from the earth.
They begin to sway, the blades,
Slowly at first, then faster, until
They cannot control their own action.
I continue to look, as I see color drain,
Slowly leaving the yard.
The green becomes less brilliant,
The pillars looking older.
First the sound is light, like a gentle knock,
But it picks itself up quickly.
Soon it looks like I’m looking out through a fence,
Obscuring the properness of the yard.
The grass gets pelted down, unable to react.
But the trees stand, defiant, unyielding,
Making the rain run off of them.
I turn to go in, for fear of getting wet.
The trees stand. They’ve been here too long to go.