...they do the dance. I can't hear the music from inside the house, but I can tell by their movement that it's not a slow waltz that's playing.
The maples articulate their bare and bony arms against the sky: the scudding clouds like scarves seem to catch and pull at woody elbows and twisted, arthritic fingers.
The firs persuade their skirts to sway wildly back and forth, rising, falling, then carrying them in whirling circles: blousy ladies whooping it up with abandon.
The ornamental cherry parsimoniously holds fast to her freshly minted pink jewels, unwilling to relinquish them to the spring tumult.
Alone, the staid oaks refuse to participate in the dance. With only a slight nod now and then in a stiff begrudging manner, they signal their disdain for such undignified behavior.
Welcome spring storms!
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6 comments:
Aah, it is a beautiful dance! And what BEAUTIFUL words, I want to fling up my flouncy skirt (if I had one ;)
Wow, what expressive writing. I like the notion of trees hearing music that we inside cannot.
Beautiful writing! I love reading it!!
Have a great weekend Ellen!
I empathize with both the arthritis besieged maple (trying to keep up with the younger, more limber boughs) and the stoic Oak (pretending to be aloof and uncaring). It reminds me so much of my journey in AA and trying to be serene and wise for the newcomer while wanting to join in their youthful antics!! Lovely writing, Ellen and thanks for the humbling message.
Beautiful, simply beautifully written. But I expect no less from my dear talented friend.
Hugs to you;)
Marylou
pure bliss in written word. i love your writing!
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