when the leaves shake and rattle

the branches catch the wind, elevated — how open the sky feels, faces pressed
towards the ever-moving clouds. remark, the masses moving across the
moon at night, illuminated by the ever-glowing beacon of light
how the breeze touches the water and the skin, dangle the feet
towards the center of the earth — the ants, the swans, the dogs
abound continue their remedial march.
remark not — but take note in how the wind whispers through, and the trees
beckon to the will
Meredith Wilshere
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