Like soldiers once on Omaha Beach
they fell, left and right and by the thousands,
yet this time not an army of brave men, but
one of proud, tall trees.

This time no enemy gunfire, but the wind,
a Tempest they decided to baptise Klaus.
In just over three hours time, Klaus destroyed
over sixty per cent of the majestic body of pine trees
that is, together with the beaches, the livelihood of the
Atlantic Coast region, the Aquitaine.

Seven hundred and fifty thousand acres of
forest. Gone. Leaving a Hiroshima of uprooted,
or snapped like matchsticks, lifeless debris of pines
that even the paper- or wood industry doesn’t want
and part of which people will have to put in their
last will and testament. The next generation’s firewood,
to go with the inheritance of the property.

We did survive, so did all our animals and even,
quite amazingly, my still skinny, but steadily
growing weeping willow tree. Its branches weep,
like many people do these days, quite openly,
men and women alike. What else to do, when
Nature, in the time span of a few hours,
destroys your livelihood, declares you bankrupt?