The Grove

Somber sways the oaken sea in ranks of waving hands upon the breezy wind

Deep within its fluid bulk the tiny birds and beasts cavort and flit between the rigid boughs

Ancient in its rightful place, the herd and herdsmen stand in stubborn dance

Stolid through the branch and bark in patient, waiting care the mass of green persists through skipping time

(featured image source)

 

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