From Outside.

When willows weep and cannot sleep
They hang in a somber swallow,
And when they seep and start to creep
It's only time before they are hollow.

The drops, they glisten,
The leaves just listen,
For they are without a voice.
But when they hit ground,
They make their own sound,
Whether out of need or of choice.

And under the tree, beneath its feet
Comes a tremor, shaking all in its path.
The ground follows suit,
And shakes free the fruit,
Until only the wood feels its wrath.

And for days past the shake,
In destructions wake,
The scars embed on the bark.
When the X marks the spot,
And all life goes to rot,
Then across the Styx we embark.

And it's in this way,
Through every day,
That a tsunami arises from a pace.
For reactions unknown,
And seeds still ungrown,
Are the challenges we must all face.