Dancing with the Storm

The gangly lines slithering up and down the crooked trunk,

The bony sticks and branches reaching for the first light of day,

The wind whispering our thoughts,

Wind,yuj the harsh warrior—a mighty battle cry,

The tree’s flags tremble and quiver on the harsh wind,

Showered by bullets of water, the dreary day drags on,

The surging and squally storm shoving for its place in the sky,

Leaving us with a dim and darkened world,

The assailing water drops transforming into an army of hail,

The hail dropping like bombs, shattering upon impact,

The deafening roar of the storm,

The tree standing its ground,

Protecting the quoll and the eagle

Falling, Falling, Falling, Falling,

Snapping branches; the thud of impact,

Running, hiding, scattering,

The mighty giant lay down defeated.