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. --- This email has been checked for viruses by Avast antivirus software. http://www.avast.com