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