There I am, staring up something catches my eye- A strong breeze, sways the trees But one stands idly by. Its movement sparse if at all against the moving cloud, it is either dead or dying, Perhaps haughty or proud. Its brethren swoop and dance to the rhythm of the breeze- their green foliage shimmers bright with such passion and such ease. To my ears, sweet music is made as I sit in the gentle shade Mesmerized. -7/15/10, MR
Poetry, Photos, and Stuff by Matt Ramey