The wind blows heavily;
Two trees are deeply rooted in the ground.
The crisp fall air is contagious;
There’s colour and harvest abound.
But one tree is not so stable
And he is getting all shook around.
So when he starts to lose his leaves,
He asks a friend why they keep falling down.
‘Well,’ said the fellow tree,
‘I believe some of us, as you, are weak,
They love to stand out;
But, when the wind strikes, they lose all sense of themselves.
Take it from me,
And heed my concern for your health.’
So the tree firmed his roots more deeply in the ground
And stuck to what he knew.
But each time the wind blew,
Leaves still flew off his branches
And he began to fear the sound.
With this, the last of his leaves began to give
And he resented the life he’d lived;
Though he tried to stand up straight, strong and proud,
The howls of the wind were just too loud.
‘Pretty though, isn’t it’, thought the friend as the final array of leaves fell to the ground;
Crimson red, pumpkin orange and gold all gave way
To the beautiful morbid masterpiece
That now lay a bed before the bare tree.
With winter fast approaching it’s sure to get cold.
And soon, the lone tree’s fears were realized
When the frost took hold from the wind’s icy blows.
And all the rotting leaves fell in vain to the ground,
Brown and rustled, buried beneath a foot of snow.