Dance of the Trees

Dance of the Trees (A poem)

On the whim of the wind the trees move.

The wind is music and lead.

Rhythm and pace.

The trees yeild in the wind's eternal embrace.

Bending in reverance.

Rising in boldness.

Like the tide they eb and flow.

Swaying back and frow.

The dance goes on.

Effortless movements.

Picking up pace.

Romanced and wooed is the case.

Sunlight dresses them in a bright encapsulating gaze.

How lovely the scene.

How pleasing the chase.

The wind leans in, kissing the leave's face.

The wind is in the arms of the trees.

And they in His.

Leading where He will.

Guiding fast then still.