Watching the Wind

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It rustled 
the silver birch,
who waved its confetti leaves
with cheerful ease.

It stirred 
robin's frisia leaves*
more vigorously
- a sturdy cook's arm
whisking thoroughly.

It bristled the
yew tree -
hardly.

Birch leaves,
like fine silk,
catching every 
slight breath.

Robin's yellow green satin,
dancing with every waft.

Yew, 
sturdy, heavy-set,
yielding only to a 
weightier wind;
its age and dignity
requiring
more than a fleeting breeze
to move it.


*robinia frisia tree


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