Almost fluid-like it urges the branches to shed their leaves,

Slowly the each flutter to the ground.

The wind becomes more violent, like rapids,

picking off a limb and flinging it to the floor

And the tree watches it as it is carried away.

An eruption from the clouds stampedes toward earth

And rips the sky to reveal white cracks through the night,

The tree stands straight awaits the inevitable,

Knowing nothing can be done,

As the crack reaches its base down to the root,

It accepts its fate and falls to the ground.

It feels unwelcome in the wood,

But cannot see that around them others suffer the same fate.

Problems they can’t help,

That everyone knows,

But nobody, nobody at all can see,

That other know too.

By daylight the storm ends,

The worst is over,

They sit at different places,

Splintered, split, fallen, leaning on the edge of a long drop

Others lean on friends,

And some leave unscathed.

And out tree falls into another’s path,

Blocking them from moving on,

His friend next to him was as shook as he,

They fell together,

All of them know the pain,

Of the wind blowing.