The Calling Of The Trees

The wind.
The calling of the trees,
Whose leaves flow
Endlessly through the wind,
Calling the sound,
Of water,
Like waves
Of the beach.
Beyond.
The row of trees
Standing in line
Along the shore,
Through them
Pass to where
Green grey water
Meets the sand,
In constant push
Through the shorebirds legs.
Crows call, geese horn
And the wind
Flows steady, strong and sure.
The wind smelling of salt and green.

(7.18.7 The View)

by Heather Z. Hanna

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