The Beauty of Chaos

Quiet solitude
The trees await
The wind that will come
To seal their fate

Small breeze
The trees sway
The breeze blows them
Swish sway, swish sway

Small gust
The trees rock
A gust so small
The branches mock

Heavy wind
The trees are knocked around
Violent motion
Knocks leaves to the ground

Strong gusts
The trees thrash
A branch snaps
Swishing noise, then a CRASH!!

A tempest
Rocking a small tree
Violent rain
It falls to the ground
carelessly slain

Clear sky
On the ground
The tree still lay
Spreading its seeds
Day after day

Spring day
Into the ground the dead tree had sunk
A small little sappling
Growing next to its trunk