Sunbeams trickle through dimpled maples,
tickle summer leaves; silvered linden frolic,
quiver and giggle on a whispered breeze.
A bold winter wind hustles singing through pines
as gold pin oaks rustle, but the dead sycamore whines.
first published in Pegasus Review
also published in FLOOR OF THE SKY Chapbook
©2003 Bonnie Manion