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I wrote this a number of years ago when my dream was interrupted by some crazy weather, obviously a harbinger of more to come. I was at my house in East Hampton, which was surrounded by wonderful old oaks. Having sold it in 2008, I miss it a lot, and have since heard that the folks who bought the house cut down many of the trees because of their messy sap and leaves; you know—life … .
The trees keep me awakeOld oaks wild with the windEcho the afternoon ocean’s roarHigh above my roomShades banging against the panesInterrupt soft dreams of bygone lovesSight can pretend the night is stillYet insistent sound screams nature’s tantrum——Look at me, look at me!