THEY WAIT

STORM AND TEMPEST today, both in terms of a too-full day and the prospect of several more in a row, and in the literal sense, with most all of my neighbours’ wheelie bins having taken flight, full or empty, at the behest of “havocs in the sky”. And I need to learn from the trees about which Wendell Berry writes:

VIII

What do the tall trees say
To the late havocs in the sky?
They sigh.
The air moves, and they sway.
When the breeze on the hill
Is still, then they stand still.
They wait.
They have no fear. Their fate
Is faith. Birdsong
Is all they’ve wanted, all along.

From A Timbered Choir – The Sabbath Poems, p134