Do you remember
Cedrus Libanii rolling, creaking
Whispering destruction, anchors heaving.
warning shots fired, debris scattered
across the winter garden
Twigs and branches.
strewn, bones in no mans land.
Sullen faces around breakfast tables
words muttered, pass the butter.
Crunch, the loudest report
the importance of punctuation, forgotten.
Trunk rotten, a ring of decay peels away,
so every sigh means, die.
No surprise so when roots surrendered
life upended in tempestuous wind
bags packed, words thrown like stones
seed of hate scattered on fertile ground.