In the Wind

 

The bending of trees after the wind,
After several years of wind, stretched
The branches across the yard toward
My room, a canopy of shade come
Summer, but on these dark winter days
They sway awaiting winds to come.
What did Emerson mean when he said

Homer was too “historical”?  A tree
Like a Cyclops reaching out a dark
Branch to brush its leaves against
My window?  I planted it years
Ago and since then it has weathered
Everything.  It cannot now be afraid,
But is it urging me not to be?

A trope then for pathos
Suggesting why argument
Can never satisfy nor
Philosophy explain;
The rain splashing
Through these leaves
To leave me speechless.