Tall Oaks In Moonlight Poem by Thomas McKelvey

Standing like sentinels,
Ancient and wise souls they hold,
The tall oaks behind my house unfold,
Swaying in the storm's cold grasp.



A whirlwind twists within my chest,
Intense, stuttering with each loud blast,
The trees stand firm, a timeless cast,
Having weathered tempests past.



Their roots, like grasping hands, hold tight,
Their branches pierce the inky night,
While I, a trembling, fragile sprite,
Hide in my unmoored, shaking plight.



The oaks dance with the wind's embrace,
Connected to the storm's wild race,
They bend but never lose their grace,
A lesson etched upon their face.



Let the squall rage its fleeting fill,
Like ephemeral clouds across a grassy hill,
Their hushed silence reigns until
Moonlight, soft and cool, distill



Through their mighty, leafy crown,
As all around, the world lies down,
The storm's fury, now unbound,
Yields to peace upon the ground.