Tossing and turning,
Waving and bent.
The sensation is freeing.
Stretching as far as your eye will take you.
Flittering as the wind flops
Front to back.
Whooshing in synchrony,
The tippy tops.
I lose myself in blowing trees,
Endlessly
Whirling away.
Where ever your subconscious takes you.
DoRee MelNic 