The Forest of Humanity

Oaks snap
Unable to flex
While the storms do rage
In the winds of change.

Willows bend
Resisting not
Until the storm passes
And the winds die down.

The oak is badly torn
With limbs asunder
The willow is only scratched
Be the willow.


About The Rural Iowegian

I am the Rural Iowegian of a published author and an award winning photographer. I use this space to speak my mind. God Bless.
This entry was posted in Nourishment For The Soul, Poetry, Writing. Bookmark the permalink.

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