Broad sweep of branches, how they dip and swirl.
Contrasting trees, in unison they whirl.
Waves passing through these naked stalwart boughs,
The gale with all its wiles, fair sighs and soughs.
Turbulent sea, the air plying its trade.
Invisible source, always on parade.
Invading, rushing, over and between,
Driving itself, no one can intervene.
It’s just amazing this impressive sight,
Like motion of an ocean, air in flight.
Zephyrs moving fast, buffeting free,
An action viewed with awe, fait accompli.
©   Ernestine Northover