Harp In The Tree
J
Juan Olivarez
0
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The breeze in the leaves,
Of the giant oak tree,
Sings everyday,
A sweet melody.
Rustling the leaves,
Like the strings of a harp,
Beautiful notes,
In flats and sharps.
Glorious music,
All through the night,
Reaching a crescendo,
In the morning light.
The oak is the stage,
The leaves are the strings,
The wind is the hand,
That makes them all sing.
9/29/10 Alton Texas
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