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The wayward winds, caress the trees,
Branches sway as their leaves catch the breeze.
A storm is coming as black clouds draw near,
The gentle raw of thunder, in the distance we do hear.

Low pressure comes at first and the air seems so clear,
But soon the clouds of gloom, upon us I do fear.
Blocking out the sunlight, in shadow if you please,
Thunder will draw closer and lightening shall then seize.

A rumble then a silent flash, as war breaks out in the sky,
An eerie silence fills the air and our imagination will then fly,
For some this truly is, the apocalypse… judgment day, 
But to others, a fresh beginning, they want to go out and play.

Glorious and majestically, lightning strikes again,
If only for a split second, it illuminates our plain.
Thunders rumble clears our heads to let our thoughts just go,
Lightning’s flash sooths our souls if we allow it so. 

Soon the air pressure rises and clouds begin to dispel,
Rumbles from the thunder, to the lightening they must have fell,
Birds sing their song, rejoice that the battles done,
We are still standing, another day to have some fun.

But somewhere in the distance, a victim has been claimed,
Natures mighty oak tree, on the woodland floor lays maimed.
Food now for the Mites, ants and woodland lice,
They hollow out its trunk which doesn’t sound too nice.

But in doing so is formed, wood dust to feed the soil,
And the whole they leave to another animal will be a welcome spoil.
A place to shelter, have a home and feed upon the insects,
Have its young, and have some fun, life is so complex.

The oak that fell still had a spell, the acorns upon its branches,
From the spot they touched upon the floor, with only one or two chances,
A few will root and up they shoot a few oaks where once there was one.
So life did thrive and more arrived, nature revived the one that was gone.
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