Shaken

A sonnet

photo by William J Spirdione

The trees roots stretched deep and wide, gripping soil.
Waiting for the coming cataclysm,
Holding tight as earth’s surface starts to boil.
Is the earth loosing it’s magnetism?

What is it? Tectonic plate induction?
Result of a meteor collision?
A death ray, an alien abduction?
The very worst dream one can envision?

The tree writhes and screams, thrashes it’s branches,
Desperate to hold on a bit longer.
As a branch swings by, small eyes, quick glances,
In tree shacks window two creatures ponder.

Is it done? Freshly chopped onion, carrot,
Garlic, cooks in a tiny metal pot.