Tantrums - Ian Duquemin

"Begone" said the wind to the leaves on the tree
"That rustling of yours, it is bothering me"
The leaves spiralled down to the soil on the ground
Scattered on earth, they danced without sound
"Begone" said the wind to the branches of the tree
"That creaking you make, it is bothering me"
The branches broke down and they cracked and they groaned
Falling to earth they collided and moaned
"Begone" said the wind to the grandest of tree
"You could not stand my rage or the tantrums of me"
The tree stood its ground and it's roots bedded in
The wind could not penetrate the rough rugged skin
"Begone" said the tree to the wind overhead
The wind not amused at the words that were said
It ran out of puff... as the tree stood up tall
Defying the wind... and refusing to fall

Ian Duquemin