Bent oaks absorb the incessant drizzleOn dark thick shoulders,
Dripping excess on the ground below.
Shading deeper with wetness,
They bow closer to the ground
With the weight of great gray clouds
Like a pall upon their backs.
And when the wind moves through them -
A shiver of cold -
They shift a heavy burden in unison.
written October, 1973; published on poemhunter May 2009 and poetfreak March 2010