The wind wreaks havoc in the forest
The green forest trees swayed with the force of the wind as it whistled through their branches, tearing leaves from tender twigs.
“The spirits are fighting again!” the wind shouted, as he grabbed at the earth- brown branches and grass-green leaves.
“My children, my children,” wept the wild willow, reaching after her leaves.
The wind snapped the most tender twigs, bellowing, “Beware! The spirits are fighting again!”
“My hands, my hands,” creaked the snow-white birch as she watched her tender twigs whirl in the wind.
“Look out, the spirits are fighting again!” the wind roared.
“My brothers, my brothers,” the reeds whispered by the battered swamp as they bent in the gusts.
The wind darted away in disgust, and started to torment other forests.
Weeping, the willow examined her battered branches and counted the missing leaves. Straightening, the birch looked at her remaining hands, sobbing to see the delicate fingers so broken. The reeds cried softly for their brothers, the plants the wind had buried and overwhelmed in mud.
