The Performance Of The Season

The trees are dancing now, can’t you see? The melody of their dance is the wind

They sway and bow like they’ve done this before; cause they have! Every time the music starts

The music strips away the covers of new life as the tree turns and bends,

Revealing a colorful performance by uncurling little leaflets, taking the shape of art!

The trees have stopped dancing, can’t you see? With a blast of heat, they forgo action

They still perform, though, in their own little way, their costumes have grown in size

The green garments have developed into mirrors of one-another; in size and color to exaction

Before stopping even that by the burning response of an audience member in the skies

The tune has changed, though, can’t you see? Now the trees cry wet tears

The dance is fast and the music hard, stripping the trees of their colorful costumes in short time

Empty and desolate they seem to onlookers who see what they don’t wear,

But these dancers are more than just tired and past their prime

The trees are swaying now, though, can’t you see? Nothing can stop these performers

The air itself turns frozen, but still they dance, moving endlessly

Their burdens grow heavy when their tears turn cold, freezing in place the painful layers

The performers have changed into sparkly white attire, the song is a festive melody

Look, the trees, they’re dancing!

So should we