What can mangroves do
when the clouds grumble
and the sky short-circuits
and starts spewing ragged sparks?
Their arms are too heavy
to cover their heads; their feet
too bound by roots to run, they
face the executioner’s black hood
between jagged flashes of fright.
No wonder their trunks are twisted,
turning away. No wonder
so many storms come – easy prey.








Never thought of it that way. Nowhere to take cover, just have to take whatever Mother Nature throws at them.
Interesting write. Well thought out and with a great result.