Invisible Grace

April 25, 2012
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The soft sigh of the wind through the leaves
Rustling melodically, Quaking and shivering
Nature’s own force moving with ease
Its peregrination itinerant and zigzagging

Moving translucently through the sky
Forcing lifeless objects to romp on by
Inherent circles forming a cone
Idling through innocent green fields

Spontaneous outbursts ongoing and long

Born on land, born on water

Swirls and storms form above

Wind forever make the trees chatter

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