The tree branches sway and curl into swirls.
Such as a painting oh it's wonderful art.
The rain trickles down off of the branches,
Hitting the soil and creatures below.
Thunder rumbles the air as a flash crosses the sky,
The flash is jagged climbing down to the ground.
Starting a fire in the artful trees.
The curls and swirls start to wither away,
Down to a stump with no more branches to sway.
Now the land is baron, where the trees once grew.
But if given time and water for new plants to grow,
The land will be covered with trees a new.
YOU ARE READING
Written In Thoughts
PoesiaPoetry written by me. Every peom written down is first imagined up as complex thoughts, then put into words as best as I can
