Futile

As summer sets her sun behind
   the earth, the wind ruffles
       the leaves of a tall oak tree
And she is gone.

And we wake in the morning to find
     the new.. although the same tree
       still stands tall and green.

A gasp of  wind
and summer's end blows through him.

And the grand old tree, in his
   majesty, fights the changing scene!

He catches the wind with his great
   limber arms and pushes it back!

Only to find it tiring and futile .

        Alas, his leaves wither and die
        and his arms turn brittle and bare.

And he waits for summer again..