One Wild Stampede Poem by Ernestine Northover

Along an avenue of oaks,
branches lay strewn upon the ground.
High winds had ripped each from their base,
hurling them madly, all around.

They snapped beneath our tramping feet,
and under wheels obsessed with speed.
Severing leaves with violent force,
then crushing them. One wild stampede.

Chaos everywhere is seen.
Disorder below stately trees.
So sad to see their stalwart trunks,
which gales turned into amputees.

But somehow these tall giants remain,
bringing forth new growth, fourscore.
All that was lost during the storm,
is replenished, just like before.


© Ernestine Northover