On the radio this morning
They announced a gale warning.
Looking out of my window I see
A very dejected, nearly bare tree.
The wind is gusting
The last leaves are rusting
Clinging on; trembling
Afraid to lose touch
With their comfortable branch.
They’re falling to the ground
Not making a sound.
Yet until they are gone
The tree can’t begin
To prepare for the spring
Gain new strength from roots
To allow growth of new shoots.
The tree too will experience
Storms, torrents and gales
Will get battered and shattered
Before new life appears
Bearing blossom that cheers
But which in turn falls down
So that the tree gets its crown
Of fresh fruit to nourish
So that many may flourish
In turn bring blessing to others.
