Heart of the storm


Look! The trio

of troubadour trees,

are singing

and dancing!

Stately and tall,

they swerve and fall,

from side to side

with jocular pride;

And now they seem

thin fingers in a dream;

Leafy hand stretching out,

feeling the wind.

Searching with unease,

for words lost to time,

and perhaps, a rhyme.

I wonder

at their search,

and my own impatient form;

I wonder if I'll find

what I'm looking for,

in the heart of the storm?