A New Explanation of the Quietude and Talkativeness of Trees Poem by Hyam Plutzik

Because they belong to the genus thunder
Trees grow still when their patriarch
Delivers his sign, the livid spark,
And comes himself with a rumble and mutter,

Reminding them of their dignity.
Boom! He empties a bucket of wet
Across their shoulders, but they submit
Till he huffs away. So they are free

With a stirring of limbs to echo him,
A confab of whispers, a hushing and mumming,
Till time comes round again for the thrumming
Harumph of the father to quiet them.