Friday, March 6, 2020

When They Dance


I Am A Tree If I Want To Be.

Standing Tall Or Not At All.

Turning Green To Make A Scene

Or Just As Red With Things Unsaid.

An Ants Retreat. A Worm’s Warm Bed. A Bird’s Delight

With Birth In Sight.

An Owl’s Call When Night Befalls,

Or On A Branch Where Music Pranced.

Trees Are Magic When They Dance.