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Trees

They sway to the beat
Their multicolored adornments
Billowing out around them,
Scattering, swirling on the fading green
Dance floor

Birds join in,
Circling above to the quickening beat,
And chirping to the music
Of Wind

But Wind does not stay,
And with a last wave goodbye and a final bow from his performers,
He disappears
With barely a trace

The dancers become still as statues
And stay clothed in
Orange, scarlet, and yellow
Until he comes again, and rushes through
And the dancers begin to shed their stunning colors
Orange, scarlet, and yellow, a blazing fire that burns
Into brown, like the rough, hard skin of the dancers
Falling into a heap, on the fading green dance floor





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