Standing naked in the cold, shivering in the breeze,
The winter wind wreaks havoc on the village of the trees.
The blue above recedes, yielding to the gray
Clouds creep over the sky hiding the sun away.
The wind flexes its muscles strengthened by the gloom
The clouds swirl and dance like shadows in a tomb
Rain begins to fall, morphing into ice
The trees reach up to catch it, never thinking twice
Their limbs begin to shine wearing their frozen shell
Feeling very beautiful their pride begins to swell
They don’t realize, this beauty carries weight
And very soon many will meet an awful fate
The silence of the woods is broken by the groans
Branches struggling, letting forth long painful moans
Some will lose, you hear them crack just before they fall
Entire trees will lose the fight, no longer standing tall.
After the storm the forest floor is littered with the lost
Nature has come to visit and this is evidence of the cost
The village has been shaken, some are gone but all have changed
But it hasn’t been forsaken, though it will never be the same
Spring will come, new growth will hide what took place.
New trees will grow and the dead will rot giving the village a new face.
So if you walk here in the quiet, when you are safe and warm
Stop to think about how this place was shaped by the storm. 

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