The wind rushes through the trees,
Unaware of the leaves that it frees,
Frees from the hold of immobility,
Unlocking their true abilities.
One gust divides them into groups of two,
Tips reaching for each other, stalks askew,
A second pushes them, makes them move,
In, out, perfect harmony, finding their groove.
They chatter in the breeze, two leaves to two others,
They grunt as they gently nudge their sisters and brothers,
In calmer moments they pose for photographs,
In excited weather they join together, they laugh.