There is a difference
in the way trees react to wind.
One is still,
looking over the roof of the house,
its branches hold grace by holding back,
with a kind of regal symmetry
it keeps its leaves intact.
The tree just behind it is moving all around
and I can feel the music of its dance
upon my own skin now.
Like a jumpy kid in line to buy a toy,
it can’t hide the excitement of air that moves in joy,
and the sound of leaves like rushing streams
is music I hold dear,
yet without the stately charm of the other
would the song be quite as clear?
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