A powerful gust of wind
Sprints across the meadows
Crushing everything in his path
Lashing with iron hooves.
The gentle laughter of wind
To enlighten a stifling sunny day
Soothing all that strays her way
Nickering with a creamy muzzle.
The smooth whistle of wind
Makes the dismal storm eerie
Awing everything in his sight more…
“Land ho!” says onlooker,
on his tall wooden mast,
standing quite uncomfortably
in a basket poorly cast.
Thin young’uns rush forth,
chilled and scrawny to the bone,
staring over the mighty Flower’s edge,
into a future quite unknown.
“We’re here at last!” cries captain,
a boom loud enough for all to hear,
and although froth poured into mugs, more…
Blue jays are warbling
Their merry jovial tune
As if the jolly maple tree they’re in
Has served them some great boon.
The squirrel throws a party
In his mound of forest nuts
To help find a deep dirty pit
Or store them in a hut.
The blue jay plays a blissful jingle
On his brand new pair of pipes
Twittering to everything in sight more…
Starts the wind with a swoosh!
And the cloud’s sad tears will plop,
And sways and frays the droopy bush
With many a rain drop.
The willows head bows down with grief
For things many things unknown
For the blown away leaf
Or perhaps for being alone.
Her ashen hair sways in her face
Battered by the gusty storm
Leaving her birch like bark
Tattered, peeling, and worn.
But the unfeeling tempest continues on,
Leaving no grass be,
But the willow remains droopy and miserable,
Even when the storm cloud must flee. more…
A tempest wafts through the sea,
And Poseidon in terrible temper;
The blue green hue turns grey
And every ship and fish is hampered.
Waves a mighty meter tall,
And sea spray everywhere does spew,
Thrashing at the gulls above,
Stronger and crueler than dew;
Caterwauls from a fishing boat,
Of sailor’s terror and fear;
And then the feeble catamaran more…
The lion bellows his mighty roar
And vibrates the world
Windy gusts are sent to and fro
And leaves scatter and twirl.
A bright green leaf is getting old
But instead of turning grey,
He engulfs himself in amber
And off the tree he sways.
The air grows a chilly cold
But not quite freezing yet,
And the squirrel eagerly gathers his nuts, more…
