Helpless green bodies
bend to unseen whips from parent sky
and cry with undersides upturned.
With fury’s lashes,
recoil and bend and sway
and sit for further licks;
then fury’s tears in anguish
wash the chastened trio
that fills my window frame.
I, too, am furious
that parent sky should be so harsh.
©1996 John F. Deethardt II
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