The violent storm

has uprooted the last tree

standing high above

the hill top.

 

The singing of

the rustling leaves

is now silenced.

 

The emerald canopy

has curled into a

dead grey mass.

 

The eroded hill top

rendered barren

is now unsuitable

for sustaining life.

 

Sadly the magical

sight of unfurling

of buds and the

melodic sound of the

singing of leaves

shall no longer

be seen or heard

on the hill top again.

 

The regular visiting

choir of birds

will neither be seen

nor will it be heard

here again.