Wrestling Wind and Maple

The wind it gusts and blows, with more intensity, it howls.
It grapples with this grandpa Maple now standing proudly
with its large baron limbs stoutly outstretched.
They wrestle, snapping sounds are heard, the Maples' smaller appendages fall.
An occasional large sound of cracking coming from its trunk and belly
as the grand large limbs stretch, battling its foe.
Its once multicolored orange-yellows, reds and oxblood leaf tassels of its garb
now carpets its base and a larger expanse on the yard
with that array of Fall display.

The westerly winds now race northeast and push the curtain of rain away
leaving a mirror of rainfall saturation soon used as a watery playground
as robins, blue jays and geese have happily found a wetland.
As the veil of thin sheathes of gray clouds meander slowly eastward
the shard like rays of the sun now pierce through,
all now glitters and glistens for all is freshly bathed.

The once portentous darkened skies that raced across as we awoke in morning rise
leaves us now with colors strewn about our roofs and lawns.
All kinds of feathered friends and scampering small terrestrials
awaken with excitement much like the fabled "Land of Oz".
They give the sounds of life rebirth in lieu of howling treachery
that 'Mother Nature' sometimes imports,
Yet through this transition of trepidation
comes the brilliance of a rainbow
manifesting life's' soulful appreciation.