Oak and Ocean
By: Matthew Patterson on 2/28/2002; 8:30 PM
Outside, the storm howls.
Fierce winds tear at the mighty oak.
It trembles, sheds leaves and acorns,
But ultimately stands firm.
When the sun rises anew,
The oak still stands,
Budding new leaves and continuing life.
The storm has not ceased; it merely moves on.
A tornado whirls off, a vortex of debris.
It finds the lake,
Sucks a giant geyser of water into the sky,
Splashes it down on the shores shantytown.
The water, helpless to resist displacement,
Demolishes the homes of innocents
In an apocalyptic deluge.
Am I wood?
Or water?
