the winds are gusting at 40 miles per hour. I sat at the waiting room at the hospital and saw the dance of trees, shrubs and the grass. Every limb, twig and blade moved in a different way, dancing to its own rhythm. When the wind came, the grass moved as if someone is running a hand through it. it shivered, as if in ecstasy. The young trees moved their limbs to their inner music, branches were in a dance of their own. The little flowers, remnants of a vital summer, seem to shudder and then pick up the dance, waving their heads this way and that.
It was fun to watch. I imagines the waves getting high, the droplets in the fountain jumping up and the rivers churning up the foam. Most of the time everything is so quiet and as if in repose, but today it was the dance of the wild.
All the while the cars rushed on Junction Road and the day progressed on hi sown pace.
