The trees gently sway beneath the capricious winds
Streamers of green ether floating oh so carefully
Sweeping low to the ground so as not to anger
As the wind beats about and throws its tantrum
The clouds lie about the horizon lazily dangling their fingers
Slowly drifting by in a disinterested haze
We are so far beneath them
And our troubles so small
Only when we’re among them do we see their mountains and caverns
From here they are monochromatic monoliths
Impassionate obstacles of an endless blue
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