The wind whistles through the green sprouts,
Its long arms stretching out into the sky,
Its feet as roots digging into the earth,
Spreading its life.
An arm reaches out,
As if it’s a peak,
Just grazing the wisps of cotton,
Spotted in the sky.
A flurry of feathers comes,
It outstretches its legs,
And lands on the peak.
Its black beady eyes scan the sky,
Of any sign of peril.
Its head fluffs of brown,
As it eyes the serene land.
It lifts off once more,
Just to settle in a brambled nest.
The tree stretches out far,
But creates an array of leaves,
To defend the feather family,
From the aggressive winds.
While on the outside of the nest,
The rising storm approaches,
The roost of animals,
Stays sheltered from tempest.
The mother silently feeds her young,
And nestles around her chicks.