Defiance
Defiant stand the distant trees,
Their battle colours red and gold,
Their enemy the cruel wind,
Sends vicious gusts of piercing cold.
A row of beech trees form a shield,
Their sword-like branches held on high,
Their stance is resolute and strong,
"Fight to the end", their fearsome cry.
Their battle standards tattered now,
This conflict lost, defeat is near,
The ending never was in doubt,
What happens next is all too clear.
So rage against these winter storms,
Defy the cold, deny the end,
Our instinct is survive and fight
And never, never bend.
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