Windchill.

The gusts are rising high today,

the tree embraces for a storm.

The sun shines swift, without delay,

keeping the old tree warm.

The wind came soft upon the leaves –

A gentle, meek, but unseen force.

A whistling tune from midst the sieve

the tree and wind become cohorts.

And so the summer day goes on

Green, yellow, sky blue above.

From the breeze at night to calm dawn

peaceful like an olive branchéd dove.

But suddenly the wind with fury comes;

the tree bends over with fear and shame.

The wind snaps the twigs, creating drums

that torment all who hear its name.

The tree, with back bent, dares not look up

for it knows not what wrong occurred.

It only shivers without a fuss,

recalling warm wind that was endeared.

When storm blows over and peace is near

the tree speaks gently to wind’s ear:

“What happened that made you cause me fear,

and caused me to see you as less dear?”

The wind huffed and sighed,

and the tree it sadly eyed.

“You’ll never understand,” it cried,

“but thank you for being by my side.”

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