They sway and dance in the breeze.
Undulating and whispering,
Sometimes crying out in a loud voice,
Letting us know they exist.
They are alive, having hearts,
Limbs, roots, a skin which you can
Wound and kill it, the tops have
Sound. Speaking to us if we would
But sit in it's shade and listen.
Listen to the ancient song come.
Listen to the beauty of their dance.
Listn to the way they praise the day.
Listen to the way they rage in a storm.
Listen to the silence of life lived.
Learn from the tree tops and see life.
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