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THE TEMPEST
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NATURE On the air a stillness lay,
the bird had sought its roost.
No breeze disturbed the golden hay,
the man from toil was loosed.
The clouds that on horizon lay
advanced with day's goodbye,
painting over blue with grey
they slowly claimed the sky
As the evening shadows fell
soft tears began to fall,
they pattered softly on the dell,
caressed the garden wall.
A sigh passed through the eucalypts
as air began to stir,
the branches waved like tossing ships,
mirrored by the fir.
As the flurry gathered strength
the wind grew to a moan.
Old willow strained until at length
it toppled with a groan.
Then, it seemed, as if to say
I've done what I intended,
the stormy tempest eased away
and left the tree upended.
