Sandy and Mr. Mangrove

Neither oaths, nor sciences

Or man’s stratagem

Dared to halt her fury and rancor.

Before her fierce raid,

She rallied the towering of the ocean,

Emboldening her measure,

Inflating her lungs;

Her bloated cheeks

Gusting the wind

Rushing the monster waves to shore.

There she was, Sandy the savage lover

Lingering, wrecking, taunting.

The tide bursted, ripped free.

Flood, deluge, everywhere!

Then came night;

A tenebrous abyss

Filled the latitude.

And souls espoused nothingness,

The unknown and dark spirits of the elements.

Trees and prides hitherto tall and mighty

Thereon surrendered hubris and heightening.

Fear, tears, anger

Simmering in the torments of the night.

Sneers, curses and prayers

Met with deaf ears.

Mayhem reigns everywhere.

The tempest roars with no yield or pity.

Apocalypse seemed impending.

Sandy the furious nymph,

With her veils, her wretched kisses and rough kicks

Shattering pines, oaks and elms …

Abruptly, she veered to court Mr. Mangrove.

Oohh! Mr. Mangrove!!! She mocked.

Mr. Mangrove, a stern and robust timber

With luring brow.

Sandy paused, stared and stormed with vigor.

The Stoic Tree defied the strike.

In time, the fearless lover, tamed and beguiled

Unwinded her fury and lust

At the shrine of the wooden Centaure.

Eli Fleurant ’76
Oct. 29, 2012