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Kunama 1958


The Trees


The trees;
Bare in the cold, grey morning,
Bare against the iron-grey sky
Bending their branches with the ease of a dancer,
Bowing at the whim of the wind...
Wild, untamed, yet beautiful.

The trees;
Dancing in the blue spring morning,
Dancing in the light, cool breeze,
Tossing their branches o'er the blossom laden air,
Gentle in the glory of the sun,
Dainty, graceful, and delicate.

HAZEL FEKETE, 4A


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