The Hungarian poet Faludy takes an unsurprising simile, likening old trees to old men, knotted and gnarled, and adds an original detail of boozy old thesps seeking out any remaining dregs in the dead of the night.

The poplars on the shore, high above the Czechs’ concrete shelters, stood in the moonlight like old actors wrapped in dressing gowns, peering barefoot in the door of the larder to see whether there was any wine left.

I wonder if those poplars are still there.  See also a simile describing poplars in winter, and another using them to describe a friend’s hand-writing.

Source: György Faludy, My Happy Days in Hell, trans. by Kathleen Szasz (London: Penguin Classics, 2010 (1962)), p. 5

Photo credit: Axel Lidholms. Herrekipering, Drottninggatan – Hattmakargatan. Varusortiment.  22 juli 1942 by Carl Larssons Fotografiska Ateljé AB – Gävleborg County Museum, Sweden – CC BY-SA.

Photo credit: Digital Artist at pixabay