When the strongest winds hit, it’s even better to be a reed than a mighty oak…
Hard to Reed
He is a kin
So so might
He oaks around
Little nuts
Who just
Helled there ground
Still
He dances
In the light breeze
And compassed within
The darkest hurry can
Bows prayerfully
In the I of the centeredness
A mist
Fallen trees
And rising tides
Not withstanding
Mysteriously moving
Hard to reed
Even a storm rider
Syncing up
With awe around
