Leaves atremble,
the maples rocked.
They scattered pollen
like powdered brass.
Winds blew and
green forest sighted.
The echo whispered
with dried
feather - grass,
Gloomy storm
at the window cries
bending twigs
toward the murky glass.
Shaking morosely,
as if dismayed,
They gaze into
semi-darkness, alas...
Black clouds
keep creeping
from afar.
Ferociously swell
the river,
the waves roar;
Like strong arms
brandishing a scimitar,
they keep crashing
again and they soar.