The Trees May Fall

Now how could
Such a week go by
And Bashevkin’s
Pen is dry?

And so I write
Despite the storm
And my readers
I’ll inform

That what I wrote
And what I said
I’d rather just
Say this instead

That every once
And every while
In our minds
We all must file

This great note
To just remember
The early days
Of this November

There is no force
There is no power
Stronger than I see
This hour

He taketh air
We cannot see
And wind that blows
To raise the sea

And mighty trees
They snap like twigs
And flip the cars
And massive rigs

Power grids
Sophisticated
Suddenly
Are decimated

And I sit here
By candlelight
To pen a poem
To quell my fright

And suddenly
I hold my breath
In shadows of
Valley of death

As His voice howls
Through the night
I stop and ask
Why have I fright?

And call my kin
To join in song
And sing His praises
All night long

The lines may snap
The trees may fall
But now I am
Not scared at all

I have His praises
That I strum
My children
With me
Sing and hum

The psalm
In mizmor 23
His staff so strong
Shall comfort me

For as we pray
And as we sing
About our shepherd
About our king

I fear no wind
Nor fear the sea
I care not
‘bout ‘lectricity

All I say
Hashem Ro’ee
Lo irah ra
Ki Atah imodi