“I was tricked!” screamed the tree
As the wind squealed and screamed,
Dragging its new leaves in an unseen bag
He scattered the lot and soon forgot
About the Beech screaming bloody murder behind.
And onto the next, to plunder and vex the great big Oaks,
And the Aspens and especially the Maples
And old Mr. Wind swept up his collection and got out his paint.
It was a nice clear solution, and he spread it on the cowering leaves backs.
And they turned rusty red and burnt orange and sad
And eventually crumbled to dust.
And that was was when Wind began to laugh and spin
And raged the whole world over
But when Summer’s rays, broke through the haze,
It started all over again.