Trees in the wind
The weather outside is definitely groaning,
Mother nature is angry, I can hear her moaning.
Hustling & rustling, the dead leaves sound awoken,
If the wind is her voice, then she's loudly outspoken.
At the window I reach to pull up my blind,
I am looking for a tree to free my messy mind.
I can smell my fresh coffee that I have not yet drunk,
I see a huge Chestnut with a hunk of a trunk.
Winds whirling,
wooshing & wickedly whipping,
Creaking & swaying,
I swear this big tree is tipping!
Yes, a storm's out there & I've named her Gail,
She's destroying everything that's fragile & frail.
A whacked, weak sapling – winter's light has forgotten,
An old Oak tree that stands infested & rotten.
She'll huff & she'll puff, determined to bend
All that Mother nature has failed to defend.
I see a Sycamore stump with wrenched tree roots,
Gail tore & tugged at teeny tiny shoots.
Bruised leaves fly away from a year-young Larch,
Fungi is forced off bashed, brittle Birch bark.
Snapped twigs on earth's carpet are now where they lay,
Alongside a recycle bin & its contents astray.
What was an ice cold current is starting to ease,
But there's still a sharp breeze that will make your skin freeze.
An ancient Ash, which now looks trashed,
Next to a Maple that's mangled.
A carrier bag flies past fast,
Caught in withered Willow & gets tangled.
Trees have fallen onto the ground,
Wood gatherers will come collecting, so bound to be found.
The must of this gust is now proving much less,
Hello mellow bellow, no more trees in distress.
Mother nature will now nurture all her creation,
While I seek a calm tree to start my meditation.