Storm

You crash over the trees,
you crack the live branch —
the branch is white,
the green crushed,
each leaf is rent like split wood

You burden the trees
with black drops,
you swirl and crash —
you have broken off a weighted leaf
in the wind,
it is hurled out,
whirls up and sinks
a green stone.
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.