The great oaks fell.
They were nestled too close,
Their roots intertwined.
The soil too wet from so much spring rain.
.
The wind flipped them over like a tossed rug
And broke them like a lamp on the other side,
A tangled splintered mess.
.
Nature is reckless.
I love her and hate her.
.
Is not a tree the purest of treasures?
It is not greedy to love a tree.
