the storm often dampens summer
I apologize for sopping leaves
harshly ripping through the woods
fresh soil now bleeding mud
onto ground once plush green
no excuses for booming sounds
echoing in the sky
the gray horizon or the flashes of light
blinding to man’s eye
but you will hear no hint of sorry
for staying firmly rooted
as the daytime sky reverses
mirroring the blackest night
and bark is ripped from my base
towering in protection
my branches hold my weight
here I will wait
Alexandria Fazzolari is an English major at Penn State Harrisburg
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