Jan Hansen Poet ABC

after a storm

After The Storm

 

Now that the spring tempest is over and the ground

is littered with twigs and juicy, green leaves flung

off mother tree long before they should, it gladdens

the woods that the old oak still stands although it is

almost hollow inside and is home to a family of foxes,

myriads of insects, and a 40 years old bachelor hawk.   

It is the oldest wild tree around; there is an older

one though an olive tree that still remembers when

Roman soldiers marched through here and the young

centurion who rested in its shadow, fell asleep and

dreamt of becoming a new Cesar. Whether he made

it or not the olive has no way of knowing. The reason

other trees were glad the oak endure is that that its

presence gives them the hope of longevity

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