The Tide
NITIN SAWHNEY
As the sun died in the background of the autumn trees, the cries ceased
The wind blew across the cold and blistered ground
Her vivid leaves danced in the air only inches above the ground they slept upon
The wind began to grow robbing the branches of the willow tree
With this the cries ceased
One by one the leaves fell upon the cold ground as the wind gathered itself once again