Tree tops bend to welcome
the wind.
Howls of laughter fill
the waving branches,
leaves jumping.
How stoic the trunk remains,
standing straight with
defiance.
How dare the branches
play with the intruder ?
The sun fulfills most of its
needs.
Take water from the earth,
mix with light to grow.
The wind serves no purpose.
“We are Amused” cried the limbs,
for the trunk offers nothing
but buried root.
Look to the wind, and feel its
renewal. The bark is grateful
to be cooled.
A storm may quench the thirst,
but the air will bring a bluster
of pleasure.
