The whispering wind speaks in a flutter
of tapping rains and cracking twigs
settling softly around the trees
encircling them in a memory
of what once was.
A melancholy timber fills the air
as it bares its saplings to the rush
of a chilling torrent suddenly racing
through the forsaken forest
trying to outrun the coming dusk.
Bent limbs grasping at the gale
pleading to the stormy sky
as one mighty trunk aches with loss
as it bows towards the past
of summer sunshine and blossoms.