Yielding's wisdom

The trees stood tall against the waning autumn sun,
their leaves unwilling to fall.
The rain, sprinkling tiny drops of crystal,
playing nature's music a potent lullaby.

A little hush of wind announced a shift
of this mesmerizing scene.
An offspring of nature's might introduced herself.
Trees started shaking, and leaves rustling,
slowly glided in dance in a downward fall.

Soon its voice grew mightier,
its sound a thunderous roar,
its shape shadowing the lands.
Trees mighty and strong shaking
under nature's brutal breathing,
their will wavering as its mighty puffs
blew in full unrelentless force,
trees that never bent -- breaking like twigs.

Near the brook on the meadowlands,
flanked by mighty giants,
stood a small tree.
Almost lonely, its canopy low,
its trunk willowij, dancing with the storm
it yielded, it shook, it bent,
but it didn't crack nor break.

The voice became soothing, approaching dawn,
the meadows strewn with trunk and leaf,
portrayed a massacre amongst the trees
the woods now wept with scars, none unblemished,
safe the little tree, that didn't stand but bent