The Trees

Glowing bask of the day,
Flushed in surfeit of life,
Above and beyond,
The trees are eager in play.
See their mottled sway to green shade
and azure dream,.
They ripple before the restless breeze,
Having stood before the sparkle rain,
That harmony bent
to tender caress in silver sheen.
A rich applause has come and gone.
Now, they behold the travelling length of train,
Empty nosing of its way.
These trees have seen me too,
A wingless bird of the undergrowth,
Bound to its city crawl stay.

Are giant sculpture's honest face,
Too still for small creatures of the night?
Oh, if I could,
Learn my eyes through bracken and shoot,
To be amongst the skies of truth,
Truly tall for ecstatic play,
Every day would be this;
A glowing, basking sort of day.

Footy fatigian.

I was at the library this morning trying to get my restless butt to sit still and do some revision. I noticed, all of a sudden, that it was raining - that beautiful spider-web rain that is like a shadow of a torrent. Moments later, the sun came out, the sky shone blue and a line of trees blustered there way into my head.