The tantrum and the tree

and at first, her motionless face,
her calm state, fair disposition
misleads one. her deep-rooted base,
trunk power, telling ambition

says less. then an incoming storm
stirs up her temper. never seen
such outburst of such giant form
swaying, coughing up leaves between

spreading her branches with embrace
fighting back every punch returned
each bite targeted at her face
spurned. her trunk and armour unturned.

water falling off her body.
one tantrum, one storm and one tree.

leonell echa