Hills of Green

Dance trees, dance trees
in the wind they sway,
emerald hills of green
bow as if in a fine ballet.

Their branches bend and arch
from the heavens to the ground,
the shimmer of the many leaves
sparkle as they trickle down.

The summer rain is falling
and the sun still shines thru,
as I glance out at the hollow
at a sky still magically blue.

The evening is quite special
for I know that I'm not alone,
though  I sit by the window
my heart with yours a glow.

Dance trees, dance trees

in the wind they sway,

emerald hills of green

bow as if in a fine ballet.

Dance Freely........

The solitaire ballerina pirouettes upon the music box, voiceless to the music that would never stop. Round and round she spin, no where to go, until the magic moment and the wind began to blow.

Snap and crack the pedestal, over wound the key, footloose the ballerina had broken free. I could see her dance no longer choreographed from memory. Dancing on the clouds so graceful and beautifully.

Eloquent a performance, more thought and desire, the ballerina
danced as if her soul was set a fire. Each day her legs strengthened, each whisper from her heart, rejoicing to the moment that for her life starts.
~~