The Marionette

The wind howls across the plain Buffeting all the trees equally Branches sway in odd disdain Leaves flutter ceaselessly The branch is battered Bombarded by a force that won’t, can’t stop The limb’s are scattered, membranes shattered Twisting, bucking, like an abused stage prop Like a demented marionette It tries to return to its original form, where it is content The wind, it seems, is invincible Against its will, the branch is bent Breaks in the wind are short and deceiving For the wind never truly ends A still state, the branch is grieving Craving a chance to undo its bends They say that it will grow stronger Because it keeps enduring the wind Branches could always go on longer Invincible, trees strength is always unfeigned But what they do not foresee Is the breaking, splintering crack The branch gives way, finally free Of the wind that pushed it back Falling to the ground, it gives way Discarded like a broken toy No more in the wind will it play Tortured by a game it would never enjoy The wind stops, why, no one knows Spruce, Birch, Pine, and Oak All of the branches blossom, grow Except for the Marionette that broke