To Be Still

I decide to make a taunt, so I send the wind to deliver my dare 
The message rattles the trees with a braving mock
A challenge to stretch an arm or move somewhere 
Rather than being bound to their roots like their locked
But the trees send their response back as they sway in the breeze 
They whisper to learn the art of being silent, standing on their hill 
And then something trickles on top of me, they're reddish orange leaves 
They murmur that there is nothing in life if you don't learn to be still. 








-anna sluder

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